


Trust in Him

by XtremeManiac33



Category: Saw (Movies)
Genre: Between Movies, Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, Gen, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Interquel, Original Story - Freeform, Violence, some torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-03
Updated: 2016-11-24
Packaged: 2018-07-19 20:57:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 35,727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7377127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/XtremeManiac33/pseuds/XtremeManiac33
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set after the first movie. A new game has been set in place. Four people had unknowingly ruined one life. Now they will be tested based on all of the lives they have encountered. Will they survive the trials Jigsaw has set for them or will they die without learning their lesson?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prized Possession

The mechanical noise was just unbearable to hear. Heavy machinery filled the air with various car parts being pounded into metal sheets, aged conveyor belt pulleys tweaking at each rotation made, steadily transporting junk into a melting machine and a crane digging into a pile of old car parts before placing them on another conveyor belt. The only machine that didn't produce any sound was the compactor. The compactor stayed silent and untouched for a while, seems like left unattended for years. It was already loaded with one car, one that was brand new and didn't have any reason to be in that place.

Inside was a man, unconscious and unaware of his current location, shaved head and grungy street clothes that consisted of a white polo, blue shirt and denim pants. He was left there without any footwear, not that it was going to matter in his current situation. The man was sitting on the driver's seat, wearing his seatbelt, windows closed and doors locked.

"Ugh..." he groaned, as he began to wake. His vision, blurry, his train of thought, wrecked. It was like someone had whacked him with a large 2x4 from all the shaking his brain did. When he could properly process his environment, he began to panic.

"Hey! HEY!" Trying to move, he discovered that his right hand was handcuffed by the wrist to the steering wheel. No, not handcuffed, chained. He removed his seatbelt and tried to find a way out. Hands desperately bashing against the car windows, a realization came to him that he owned this car and that the windows were bulletproof, something that can't be broken by mere strength. "Someone get me out of here!" He screamed as he tried the door, but even if he could open it he would still be trapped. An alternative must be found. One was the rectangular hole he found on the roof of his car. It looked like he could escape through there, if he wasn't chained.

He tried looking at the back seat and saw a hacksaw lying there, hope began to reappear. Taking the hacksaw quickly, he began cutting the chains holding him from his freedom, only to realize that the saw was not making any progress. "Agh!" The man threw the now useless saw to his right in a fit of rage.

There a mysterious cassette tape lies on the passenger's seat. He examined the tape, which had the phrase Play Me on the other side. "What the hell is this?" Asking questions were not going to get him out his condition, so he put the tape in the player his car was costumed with.

" _Hello Evan . I want to play a game._ " The man on the tape began, deep voiced and aged, and every word being said filled the man with dread. " _You were born on this world with a lot of advantages over the vast majority of the population, but did you use these advantages for a good cause?_ "

"What the hell is this?" The man named Evan murmured to himself, struggling to understand what was happening.

" _Your father made a living of making cars as a part of the top car manufacturers in the country, like your grandfather, while you on the other hand sold drugs through your father's connections. Let me ask you Evan, are you worthy of living? Today we will find out. You are chained to the steering wheel inside one of your most prized possessions. You have two minutes to decide your fate before the walls you have desperately tried to push back crushes you completely. In order to escape, you must sacrifice one of your most prized possessions, your hand. I ask you Evan, do you have what it takes to live among the deserving, or will the pressure be too much to handle? Let the games begin._ "

The car suddenly was activated; the lights on the front and back of his car were now lit, giving Evan a clear idea of how far were the walls from his car. A spotlight was turned on, lighting the inside of Evan's car through the large hole on the roof of his car, something he didn't notice immediately. Two minutes, and counting down, appeared on the car's clock, beeping every second the timer was one second closer to zero.

"No…" Evan whispered to himself. The crime that he has willingly committed, making him fully aware of the judgment that could be passed onto him. "NO!" Fear had found its way to his heart, the startling realization that death was two minutes away if he were not to act.

He had tried pulling the chain once again, using all of his strength, hoping that it may give away. His screams of desperation didn't help. Giving up on the chain, he now went for the steering wheel itself. But he didn't have it in him to pull out a steering wheel all by himself. He was not a hundred percent.

The hacksaw lay on the passenger's seat, taunting Evan of the freedom the tool ensured. Sawing into his flesh and bone didn't reassure Evan. Great pain would have to be realized in order to escape, but is he willing to feel great pain just to live through one day. He had already suffered family problems and the demons that his notorious drug trafficking have brought to him. Everything he has tried to forget has come back to haunt him.

"Don't make me do this!" He once again grabbed the hacksaw put the blade right beside the cuff. The mechanical device looked too old and rusty compared to the chain, used for construction one time too many. It looked like it was about to give up on him after he threw it earlier. "I can't! I can't do it." He began to feel hopeless.

One minute. He was wasting valuable time. He tried using the saw on the chain again, that was until the saw broke into two pieces, further eliminating the very few options of escape given. "It wasn't my choice!" he screamed into the air. Evan checked the compartment on the passenger's side, making its contents pour out once he opened it. There were pictures of him and other people. "Dealer and Customer", a phrase he found written on one of the photos.

In the photo was a bigger man, dressed to cover his identity. He was one of Evan's biggest customers, both physical and financial-wise. He forgot what his name was, for a name was not going to change anything.

"Help! Please someone help me!" He hammered on the steering wheel viciously, the horn loudly beeping into the night.

Then he saw the walls move slightly. The timer was close slowly wasting away his time. Evan tore his polo and desperately tied it to his forearm, trying his best to tighten it so the blood would stop flowing to his hand. "I can't do this. I can't do this!" There was nothing else he could do. Only one way out. If he had to do what a psycho tells him to do just to avoid death, then he had no choice.

When the clock reached thirty seconds, the walls shook once again, but this time, they continued to move inwards. Wide-eyed and the feeling of dread beginning take him, he searched for another saw in the backseat. Alas, there was none. He looked everywhere for another hacksaw and found something else under his seat: a backsaw.

Evan eyed the backsaw carefully. It was not even his. He didn't know whose it was; probably it was fate that placed that tool in his car. With hesitation, he placed the blade where he could begin cutting. The feeling of a dangerously sharp metal against his skin made him shake in fear. With eyes closed tightly and head turned, he began to move his left hand up and down. The saw began cutting through Evan's skin and muscle, blood just pouring out of the wound as Evan screamed in pain.

Metal walls closing in, adrenaline pumping through his veins as he slowly sliced through his arm. Blood dripped through the wound, often spraying about as he cut a nerve. Seeing the inside of his arm disgusted him, the tissue and muscle being torn apart by the backsaw. That was then when his mind snapped. He raised the backsaw high and slammed it down to his bone. A flash of excruciating pain was felt but held on.

The walls had already reached his car, slowly crushing it as the driver continued to brutally slice off his own arm. The backsaw reached the end of its journey, slashing through the last inch of the skin and tissue. Now free from the chain, he had to get out quickly, but he felt drained. A pool of his own blood dripped from the mutilated hand, more decorated his clothes and some on the seat, brakes and the steering wheel itself. He sloppily started moving for the large hole above him, his only route to freedom.

Feeling dazed from the blood loss, his slow crawl to the hole matched the speed of the walls, compressing car one inch at a time. "Almost there. Almost there." Evan whimpered, grabbing onto the edge and pulling himself up. At the sluggish pace he was going, it was as if the walls got a little bit faster. The compactor forced the car into a little tiny space, making Evan's escape smaller as time passed. He forced himself to fit through the hole, even as the metal edges cut his skin. "Need to push through."

Hope faded when he felt the roof slowly push its way into Evan's torso and trapped him where he stood. Screams of agony accompanied the noise around the junkyard, almost drowning the sound out so nobody could hear. The timer had already reached zero.

As he screamed in horror, he looked up towards the control room, where everything could be navigated and activated with a single push of a button. There he saw a hooded figure hiding in the shadows, only to be revealed by the button flashes of the console in front of the figure. He threw the backsaw towards the control room, a futile attempt at that as it didn't go far.

"Save…me." He groaned, reaching for the figure as the walls finally met, crushing everything from the prized car and all of its insides to Evan's lower body, squishing the tissue, veins and bones into one single dead carcass.


	2. Find Them

"Welcome to the 1987 Riverton University Alumni Reunion!"

A woman stood in front of the double doors, greeting the attendees with a cheerful smile and directions to the registration table. Above her was a large banner hung on top of the auditorium entrance reading: "Alumni Reunion of Batch 1987". A number of early attendees had already sat down on their respective chairs, some mingling with the other guests, bragging how much money they were earning each month, how many times their wives and themselves did it on the kitchen table, how many kids they have, and so on and on.

They all talked about achievements, achievements that wouldn't matter as soon you were 5 feet underground. As if they wore their pride like a newly obtained medal, proudly displaying their egos for the world to see. "They don't deserve to live." A man grumbled as he shook his glass of whiskey.

It was 7:00 PM, an appropriate scheduled time for such a gathering. People were steadily flowing into the auditorium, numbers multiplying by the hour. The stage on the far side now had a spotlight centered on a microphone stand as a woman made her way to it. She stood in front of it, turned on the microphone and tapped it a few times to make her presence known.

"Hello everyone." She nervously began. Everyone dropped what they were doing and turned their attention to the stage. "Welcome to the 1987 Riverton University Alumni Reunion! It's been almost a decade since all of us have graduated from our alma mater. Ten years of lives dedicated to serving your community, your family and yourselves. I hope you did, because you would have just wasted those same ten years."

"Wouldn't be the first time." Someone in the crowd shouted. He got a few grins and giggles from the others.

"Anyway, just have a good time. These people are your longtime friends and classmates. Reacquaint yourselves and remember the good times. Also, easy on the drinks. This is a reunion, not a fraternity gathering. Cheers!" The attendees responded with the same word as they continued what they were doing before.

The man, who sat lonely by his table, raised his glass and drank the rest before pouring more into it. A woman from across the room noticed his loneliness and walked up to him. "You're hitting the bottle quite early, aren't you?"

"Not early enough." He retorted before chugging his drink down his throat. The woman looked concerned. She took the bottle of whiskey from the man's reach. "Hey!" he tried grabbing it, but wasn't fast enough because of the amount of whiskey in his system.

"It's for your own good, Brian. What would your children feel if they saw their father drunk as hell on his reunion?"

"They have enough problems as it is." He said coldly. His current condition troubled her more than ever. "I don't need them worrying about mine."

"But  _I'm_  worrying about you. You are just wasting your life, drowning your past with liquor. Nothing is going to bring-"

"SHUT UP!" His palm slammed on top of the table, preventing her from finishing that last line. His sudden reaction scared the woman, who accidentally dropped the bottle in her hand, shattering it with its contents spilled everywhere. Everyone's attention was now centered on the conflict between the two. Before anything else happened he took his coat and quickly exited the premises. The woman stood there in silence, lamenting her friend's situation.

-TiH-

That was his usual routine at night. He would pretend everything was alright with his children, being careful not to give them any hints of his problems. It was, after all, his problems and his alone. Nobody could ever understand what he was going through. He was once an important man, now everything has gone downhill since the beginning of his problems arose.

He started his self-loathing with a handful of drinks in The Melody, a bar between the city and its suburban counterpart. Minutes upon minutes, hours upon hours would pass until last call. Only the bartender would allow him to drink even after the last call. He knew he had problems.

Once he was the chatty type, the bartender knows that. They once had an hour long discussion about this one law that a certain country had disagreements upon. Only liquor could allow men to bond like that. Now he was a changed man, every bartender knows when one needs silence among themselves. Every bartender should, unless they don't want to be successful in their profession.

Eventually, someone would pick him up and return him home. But today was a different day. He rode in the ever so familiar vehicle he sat in. The driver was talking to him, yet his words sounded like gibberish in his drunken state. He couldn't even get a clear view of his face. When he noticed that they stopped near a certain intersection, he said, "Turn here."

Confused, the driver tried to argue, only to be set straight by a back hand. "I said  _turn here_!" he repeated, his voice rose to a certain volume that the near-by bystanders heard. The vehicle turned and drove straight into a suburban area. "Stop!" Brakes suddenly engaged, the car stopped in front a residence. An empty residence from looks of it.

Unbuckling his seatbelt, he began searching for something under his seat. There he found a switchblade. His driver saw it and gasped. He tried stopping him, tried to take the blade, only to be pushed away and ordered to leave at once. The drunken father staggered into private property that was not his as the car drove away.

He reached for the doorknob, twisted it and pushed open the door, revealing the darkness and emptiness of the house.

-TiH-

It was the middle of the afternoon when the local junkyard began to have all sorts of activity happening. Someone had called for their presence in what looked like a crime scene. Forensics had arrived thirty minutes ago, looking at the victim and trying to get any information about him.

A car came cruising through the busy street and parked beside the sidewalk where the junkyard welcomed in its guests. A man and a woman exited the car, both detectives of the city. There was a big difference between the two; all could be summed up to a metaphor. One had enough sleep, the other none; the man was exceptionally guilty of this. He strode into the crime scene with his newly bought sunglasses and expensive leather coat. The woman, on the other hand, had no striking brand of clothes or accessories, just the outfit needed for the job.

They displayed their badges to the officers before being let in. The man took off his sunglasses and looked at the scene. A big metal car compactor, dark and old in design. It was apparently loaded. "Detective Shawn Cooper and Detective Liana Richards." He briefly introduced them. "Anything we need to know about this?" he asked the lead forensic examiners

"Yes detective." He replied as he flipped through a page the clipboard he was holding. "Victim's name is Evan Calibri. He is the son of the owner of Calibri Manufacturing Inc., and apparently you have a warrant for his arrest. His lower body was crushed by the compactor and his hand has been severely butchered off. Unfortunately, we can't find the other hand."

"Good god." Richards muttered to herself. "Vigilante?" she mused, going around the compactor to get a closer look. "What was he doing to get our attention?"

The forensic examiner looked at the documents again. "Illegal drug trafficking."

"Wasn't he reported missing about four days ago?" one of the officers spoke up. It reminded the detectives about a call from Evan's father that he hasn't seen his son for days and decided to ask help from the police. Sadly, he didn't know about his son's criminal activities.

The detective just nodded at the cop's inquiry. "The junkyard is supposed to be abandoned, right?" Cooper removed his sunglasses and placed it inside his jacket.

"Apparently the mayor decided to shut this place down a few months ago, trying to put a school dormitory here for the nearby private school." Richards told her partner. She had already put on plastic gloves when she lifted the corpse's hand, looking for other clues. The she noticed the victim looking at something. "The victim was looking at the control room over there. He probably saw his assailant before his death."

Cooper stepped in, climbing up the compactor with his gloved hands. He looked at the body while the forensics team was still taking pictures of the body. That was when he noticed something. He knelt down on the dried blood of Evan and saw what looked like a jigsaw puzzle piece cut out from the skin. "I think you missed something here." The photographer took a look and immediately took a shot of it. "Check the control room." He ordered the other cops.

They rushed upstairs towards the control room, shoes and boots pounding on the metal staircase as they went up. Drawing their guns cautiously, one of them opened the door and scanned the inside. The room's contents were immediately revealed by the light of the sunset over the horizon. What seemed like an ordinary room with a counter filled with buttons and levers, the police found a generous amount of pictures sitting on the chair.

Cooper and Richards walked into the room, plastic gloves still being worn, and inspected the newly found evidence. "Pictures of the victim." The detectives simultaneously said. There were quite a number of pictures of Evan, all in black and white. Some had him in his car, talking to someone on his cell phone and some smoking. There were actually other that had him walking, hands in his pockets, keeping his head low to avoid suspicion.

Then they saw a bunch more, this time none of them had Evan in it. This set had other people in it. "I think our killer has other targets." Richards mused, flipping through all the pictures.

Cooper looked over the crime scene from the control room. He could see that the crime scene was getting attention from the civilians in the area, although they were doing their best to prevent them from crossing the police lines. News vans have begun to arrive at the scene, reporters trying to ask some of the officers about any details of the murder.

"That puzzle piece… It feels like I've seen it somewhere before." He thought. That was when he remembered what happened last night.

_He had just arrived at the station in his street clothes late that night. As soon he entered through the precinct lobby doors, there was a commotion happening in the middle of the lobby. A man, middle aged, wearing a matching suit and pants, balding, was shouting at Richards as she was trying to calm the man down. He was complaining something about his clients._

_Cooper walked in the middle of the two and faced the guy. "Anything I can do to help?"_

" _Obviously you could do better than what she's doing right now!" he said. He walked with Cooper to his office. All Richards could do was glare at his partner, who looked over his shoulder and just shrugged._

_Cooper's office was small, but it managed to contain his ego. A brown mahogany desk, decorated with an organized stack of folders on one side and a framed photo of him accepting an award from the mayor sat in the middle of the room with three chairs around it. On the wall to the desk's left was a bulletin board filled with newspaper clippings about him and success._

_They took a seat on opposite sides of the desk and the man began his story._

" _I'm Frank De Latro. I am a talent agent for one of the biggest, and I mean BIGGEST, talent agencies in existence." He introduced himself, pulling out his card and handed it to Cooper. He raised an eyebrow and gestured to continue. "My problem is that two of my clients are missing."_

_As he was beginning to become uninterested with the agent's problem, Cooper was about to tell him to go hire a private detective and don't bother them with his problems, Frank pulled out a photo. He had a change of heart when he saw it._

" _If you're wondering, yes, that's MY client. Our state's biggest football player!" he said. Just talking about his clientele, even a mere whisper regarding the topic, would boost his ego._

" _Okay, client number one is everyone's beloved athlete. Do you think there's anyone out there he's wronged and wants revenge?" Frank shook his head and told him that he had just readjusted some things in his life, insisting that nobody would target a changed man. "Who's the second?"_

_Frank reached for the photo and pointed to it. There were three people in the picture: one of them was Frank and client number one. He was then pointing to the third person. "He just graduated from film school. Guy's a visionary."_

_He asked the same question about his second client and was told that he was too busy creating his "art" that he has no time for making trouble. "Or so I'm told." He added._

_Now informed about this new missing person's case, he stood and promised that he would find them. "Please find them. I'm nothing without them." The talent agent gratefully shook and showed himself the way out. Richards, arms crossed on her chest, walked in with an eyebrow raised._  

" _You do know you work homicide, right?" She already knew his motives when he saw him promise locating the two missing clients._

" _This isn't the only time I ignored the rulebooks." Before he could say something else, his phone rang. He sat down and answered the phone with a hello. He recognized the voice. It was from Lisa Michaelson. "Lisa, what made you call yours truly in this time of night?" From a smile a welcoming expression on his face, it changed when he heard something from the other side of the conversation. "Wait, I'll put you on speaker, Liana needs to hear this."_

_He pressed a button on the phone and put down the receiver. Liana sat down and said hello to the woman on the other line. She summarized what she said to Cooper in one single sentence. "My brother's gone missing." The two detectives looked at the other before saying something. They first assumed he was with his friends, but Lisa told them that he hadn't talked to his friends for some time. Then they thought he was with his family. "The only family he has is me and his sons. He isn't close with the others."_

_They tried thinking of other reasons, but all have been rebuffed. "Brian's been missing for days. His youngest son is asking me where his dad is."_

_The two knew her so personally that it would be very difficult to shut her down. Cooper contemplated this, but Liana replied before he could say a word. "Don't worry Lisa, we'll find him. We'll turn this town upside down if we have to." Comforted with the fact that her two close police friends were on the case, she said her goodbyes and put down the receiver._

_He frowned at his partner. "Sometimes you're just too nice." He stood up and made his way out with Liana._

_He exited his office and walked alongside his partner, going to get coffee. It was going to be a late night when Richards informed him that they were supposed to be helping another unit with a newly discovered homicide case, but Cooper tried to back out of it. In addition to the new case, he had promised to find those missing people. As they were walking, they saw a live coverage of a complex crime scene somewhere in town._

" _We are here live outside of a crime scene that the police are currently investigating. They have informed us that the victim was placed here days ago, trapped and faced with a terrible option of brutally inflicting bodily harm to himself to escape a device that was strapped to him. We believe that the killer was also the culprit of another murder that matches the same method and –"_

_The police didn't allow any of the cameras to see the crime scene, but one lucky guy managed to get a shot, a whole 5 seconds, of the victim's open body bag. Inside was a man, about 25 years of age, blond hair and currently dead. The corpse was definitely on its way to decomposition, horribly pale skin and eyes rolled to the back of the head, some of the wounds were already of a different color. On his stomach was the signature of the killer: a jigsaw puzzle piece._

His realization left him wide eyed. Richards saw his reaction and immediately approached her partner. "Something wrong?" she asked, putting a hand on his shoulder and voice filled with concern.

Cooper scanned through the pictures once more, but this time picked out the ones with men in it. He handed them to one of the cops he was with and said, "Vic, come with us. I need you to find who these people are. Tell me immediately when you do."

The cop nodded and went down the metal stairs. Richards looked at her partner still trying to find an answer to her previous question. "What is it? Did you find something?"

He heard her, but found the answer stuck in his throat. The thought of it was just horrible. Only someone with a sick and twisted mind had the gall to do this to those people. Even if Evan was a criminal, he didn't deserve to be in a situation like he had been in. Eventually he had to answer Richards. "I think I know who the next victim is."

 - TiH-

His face had already felt cold from the beginning. When it began, he didn't know. He was just starting to wake up. Everything was blurry, unclear and dark. Shaking his head didn't help the major headache he realized he had. The smell crawling into his nose was of the dulling sensation of anesthesia; a feeling of numbness was starting to go away. He checked his hands, relieved that he wasn't missing a hand. He tried his feet, but that was another story.

He heard chains rattling when his left foot moved. He moved it again, and once again heard chains react. Feeling for his foot, he felt the cold metal wrapped around his pant leg right above his ankle. He pulled and pulled, but no amount of pulling would release its grip on the limb. He muttered a curse upon giving up.

Then he heard groans. "Who's there!" he asked softly. There was no reply. "WHO"S THERE!" his voice got louder and his time there was a reply.

"I should ask you the same question." A voice from the corner of the room replied. He spoke like he was exhausted, probably fatigued from whatever got him here. There was movement from his direction, the same sounds of chains being made. 

He tried to stand and by doing so he hit his head on something. Reaching into the air for what made the collision, he felt a long thing string. When he reached the bottom, which was in front of his face, he felt a rectangular shape hanging on the end. Accidentally he pressed a button and a voice began to speak.

 "Hello everyone and welcome…"


	3. Their Fate

_Previously:_

_Then he heard groans. "Who's there!" he asked softly. There was no reply. "WHO"S THERE!" his voice got louder and his time there was a reply._

_"I should ask you the same question." A voice from the corner of the room replied. He spoke like he was exhausted, probably fatigued from whatever got him here. There was movement from his direction, the same sounds of chains being made._

_He tried to stand and by doing so he hit his head on something. Reaching into the air for what made the collision, he felt a long thing string. When he reached the bottom, which was in front of his face, he felt a rectangular shape hanging on the end. Accidentally he pressed a button and a voice began to speak._

_"Hello everyone and welcome…"_

On instinct, he pulled the object, and this resulted in the sudden activation of the lights. Brightness blinded Brian from above. Long fluorescent light bulbs in sets of two turned on one after another until all of them were lit. When his eyes became accustomed to the sudden change, he saw what the darkness was hiding.

The room was averagely big, a whole living room in fact, if you were to accept the bland, metal walls as scenery and white tiles for a comforting touch. A flat screen TV was screwed to the wall, although its presence was currently unimportant. Two metal doors were tightly locked by the mechanism installed on it. One of the doors had a phrase written out in blood or red paint saying "Choose wisely." One thing he noticed about the shackle around his foot, the chain lead underneath the floor tiles.

Each corner of the room had a person chained, both hands and feet, all of the shifting and moving around, but the grip on each limb was tight and it nullified every movement they made. The only thing holding them still was their straps. The most horrible thing about it was in front of them, inches away from their body was a large power saw horizontally positioned, angled downwards.

The four people strapped in each corner were two men and two women. One of them, he recognized.

_"You're hitting the bottle quite early, aren't you?"_

_"It's for your own good, Brian."_

"Teresa!" He dropped the cassette tape and tried to walk towards her direction, but the chain reminded him that he wasn't going anywhere.

"You may be all wondering what lead you to a place like this. The answer comes in the form of the person in front of you. The man you see in front of you is Brian Michaelson." The voice in the tape continued to speak.

Brian looked around him and saw another familiar face, one he despised. "What are you doing here?" He looked into the eyes of a big, colored, muscular man, whose strength couldn't help him in his current state. "What the fuck are YOU doing here!"

"You may not remember him, but he remembers you, because all of you played a prominent role in destroying his life. He is all but one tiny organism in the grand structure of life. Today all of you will be tested, not on the basis of a single life, but all of the lives you have encountered up to this moment. The collars around your necks symbolize the grip that you had on the people you knew, loathed and loved." That was when he noticed the small metal device around all of their necks, even Brian felt it secured around his neck.

"In 60 minutes, you must complete all of your tests or an explosion will occur. If freedom is what you seek, I implore you to trust each other and prove to me that you have changed for the better." The message ended. A digital clock above one of the doors displayed the 60 minute mark that was now counting down.

Brian put his hands on the collar around his neck and tried to remove it by force, only to hurt himself in the process. "No use." He uttered to himself. He turned to Teresa, who was slowly gaining consciousness. "Teresa, are you okay?"

Her eyes fluttered and focused on him upon fully opening. "B-Brian? Wh-wha-"Words came out scrambled and made no sense. The others, not so much.

"YOU! Get me out of here right now or, so help me I'll rip you into shreds." The big yelled at Brian. Even though he couldn't physically force him to do what he says, his mouth spewed orders like he had been his assistant.

"OH SHUT UP!" Brian turned, hands forming fists and shoulders shaking. "It's YOUR fault I'm in this mess. YOUR FUCKING FAULT!" The other man tried to calm the two down, which was failing miserably. Teresa was now fully awake and confused of the events happening in front of her eyes. She turned her head and saw the fourth person, a woman, just silently observing.

Before anything else happened, the TV screen suddenly turned itself on and an image appeared on the screen. A pale faced puppet was being displayed at the center of the screen before it moved its head, eerily looking into the camera. "Hello Brian. I want to play a game."

-TiH TiH TiH TiH-

Detective Shawn Cooper had just informed his partner that he would be looking in on someone, someone who could know where Brian was, right before leaving the station. He asked for a favor though, he wanted Richards to get rid of the paper on his desk.

On his desk was a newspaper that was about two months old since its publication. She didn't know how Cooper got a copy of it, since he himself avoided that very issue of the town paper. She remembered that very day when Cooper didn't report in the day after the story broke out. On the cover was a picture of Cooper, stone faced and serious, as he was talking with various reporters in front of city hall. The large bold text right next to it read: "Lead Detective Drops Mutilator Case, Investigation Continues".

She didn't know where he had gotten this, but it certainly had Cooper leaving in a hurry. As she was about to dispose of the newspaper, she bumped into someone carrying a handful of documents and the photos given to him about an hour ago. "Here they are. Files Cooper requested about the men in the photos, just like he asked."

She skimmed through a few pages, reading some important details about them before taking the documents. "I'll give this to Shawn the moment he arrives."

Richards was about to head to her office and do some reading about the men in the photos, but someone had gotten her attention. A woman had walked into the lobby, rushing inside with a worried look on her face. She and Richards spotted each other and met halfway with a short embrace. "Have you found him yet?"

"Not yet, Lisa." Her reply was hesitant, but no lies would be kept between friends. "Shawn's out finding someone. He'll be back before you know it."

As comforting those words were it didn't do what it was supposed to do, it only made her feel worse.

The lobby doors suddenly burst open, with Cooper walking ever so confidently down the hall. Behind him were three people: a little boy fiddling with long blonde hair dressed in a striped t-shirt and denim shorts with white shoes, a brown haired girl, with her beautiful locks displayed in a ponytail, in a blue shirt under a leather jacket, dark blue pants and sandals, lastly a raven haired teenager the same age as the girl, who were holding hands with each other, with a more formal approach in a black blazer and a matching pair of pants, white undershirt and black loafers. The teenager was also wearing a black glove on his unoccupied hand. The three were told to standby Cooper's office before he walked up to his partner.

"Liana, meet our witness." Cooper announced, pointing to black haired boy in the blazer. Lisa's reaction was probably the worst someone could get from her.

-TiH TiH TiH TiH-

"Hello Brian. I want to play a game. Trust is a funny thing isn't it?" the puppet began to speak in the same manner and tone of the voice in the tape. It sent chills down Brian's spine, something about the voice behind it all had began to get to him. "Didn't it seem like yesterday that you "helped" these four people back then? But when you asked for help in return they ignored your pleas, in which your downfall began.

"Behind the tape recorder is a key to the shackles that hold your friends in place. Not only is this key a symbol of freedom to them, but it is also yours." Brian bent down and took the tape recorder in his hand. He turned it over and saw the key, taped to the object. "This key will only work four times, in which after it will break. Will you save these four from their chains or will you escape with the ones you set free. You have two minutes to decide. Once two minutes have been reached, whoever hasn't been released will be cut in half. Their fate is in your hands. Let the games begin."

The video cut off and without warning the power saws began to spin. A few feet away from each of the four were small portable devices. The devices had a red and green light on the top, the keyhole for the key and the two minute timer. It had already begun its decent to zero.

Upon realizing that their lives were in the hands of the man in the middle, they began to panic. Shouts for freedom and shrieks of fear filled the room. Brian tried to calm them down, but it was no use. This was always the initial reaction when knowing they were not in control and someone else was. He had seen it happen occasionally, mostly from work, others in television shows. He had taken the key into his hands after the video ended. The key in his hands symbolized the power he wanted long ago, now just a bitter reminder of a life he wanted to forget.

Everyone was using all of their lung power to attract attention to themselves and convince him to use the key on them. One choice that didn't need a lot of thinking was Teresa. Only she had the privilege of knowing him more than everyone else in that room combined. Or so he thought.

"Don't worry Teresa, everything will be alright." He reassured her. She was thanking him profusely when he went for the device's keyhole. He managed to reach it after lying on his belly, putting the fragile key into the keyhole and turned it. The green light turned red and the power saw started to slow down. When it fully stopped, Teresa was released from her chains. She thanked her savior with a warm embrace. "H-how did you get here?"

"No time." She said, pointing to the timers on the devices. The remaining three struggled in their chains, seeing the power saw inch itself closer as time came closer to its mark.

"Please, you need to get me out of here." The other woman finally spoke up. Her voice came off strong with desperation, her short shrieks an octave higher than earlier.

"You! You think you deserve to get out of here?" The calm man in the other corner shouted, his true colors finally showing. "I have a fucking masterpiece waiting to be shown all over the world! Don't waste your time getting her out. I know her kind!"

"Fucking get me out of here now!" demanded the last man. "I swear to God, I don't want to die like this. Hopeless and weak." He snarled at the thought of the last sentence. Unfortunately, he IS in a hopeless and weak state. His life on the line, with the only chance of living is in the hands of man who despised him.

"I swear to god, if you let me out I will help you. Please. I have a family." The woman promised. Her brown business attire had already been soaked with sweat, produced by hour's worth of heat. Brian could feel the heat right now, sweat running down his forehead. He finally made a choice. He put the key into the device in front of the woman. The power saw in front of her slowly powered down. "Thank you. Thank you."

She could only cower in the corner she was in. Only two left with sixty seconds remaining.

"I'll give you anything!" The panicking African-American told him. "Money, women, hell even drugs! Just name your price and I'll fucking give it to you."

If Brian could've walked up to him and punch him in the face, he would have. But with his foot still confined in a shackle, all he could do was shout back. "Drugs, huh? Drugs are what got you here in the first place, Christian!"

"Fuck you. FUCK YOU!"

Brian looked at the other man; he was whispering something to himself, something about his vision being realized even if he dies or not. The power saw jumped an inch closer and he screamed. "Look, please, I'm nothing like that guy over there."

"Who the fuck do you think you are, huh?" The man named Christian demanded. "You're lying! He's fucking lying!"

"At least you're better than her. But I'm better than all of you combined. You just don't know my name yet. When you do, you'll remember it until you die!"

"You're full of shit!" Brian called out, directly pointing at the skinny, over-zealous braggart. "People like you, people who declare themselves better deserve to die. Probably cut in half."

He then faced Christian and put the key in front of his face. "I want you to beg. Beg me, convince me, tell me you deserve another chance. Tell me like the last time I gave you a chance at redemption." There was something in the tone of his voice, a combination of contempt and joy. He was enjoying what was happening to Christian. "Beg or be cut in half."

"Let me out of here first!" hollered the other trapped man.

"SHUT UP!" Brian didn't even bother looking at him. All of his focus was on Christian. "I SAID BEG, DAMMIT!"

"Brian," Teresa tried to interject. "You don't have to do this." He didn't have to. Thirty seconds remained on the clock and all he had to do was to free himself and care less about the two. Brian didn't feel that way. He knew that Christian had this a long time coming. A smile was beginning to form on his face.

"You don't think I won't let you die?" he walked towards the other man and eyed the device. "Today's your lucky day." Brian proceeded to unlock him from his chains and turned off the power saw that endangered his life. The man stepped away from his corner, not even saying a word. Brian turned back to Christian and began to taunt him. "Now the tables are turned Christian. How long was it when you had bullied me back in the "good ol' days"? How long!"

The woman in the business suit stepped in upon hearing this. "Wait. You're going to let him die just because of a personal grudge long ago?"

"All of this didn't happen long ago. You don't know the trauma, the physical pain I have endured from him." Brian grumbled, his hands shaking. Anger was beginning build inside him as he began to remember. "Then he comes begging me to help him like he didn't do anything to me. If he wants me to help him then he knows how to start. Isn't that right?"

The two concerned women looked at Brian and the clock. Time was running out. "Tick tock, Christian! Fifteen seconds! I want to see every shred of dignity you have left ripped out of you, just like what you did to me." He sat down, pointing the key to the keyhole on his shackle. Ten seconds left. "Fine. You live like a criminal, you die like a criminal."

Before he could put the key in, the silent man struck from the side, kicking Brian in the face. He had released the key, letting it fly away from his grasp to an unreachable distance because of the chains that held his foot. Teresa and the other lady were shocked at what happened. They didn't have enough time to act before the man took the key quickly and released Christian at the very last second.

"Nobody tells me I'm full of shit and gets away with it." He shook hands with Christian, who was now grinning like a Cheshire cat. He took the remnants of the key and threw it at Brian.

"Y-You can't do that!" Teresa cried out. The woman agreed with her, but both can't do anything to help Brian. The key, his only chance for freedom, was now broken. With two minutes done, the door with the bloody inscription suddenly unlocked itself.

"What the fuck…" Brian groaned, cupping the afflicted side of his face. With all four of them free, he had realized he was going to be trapped, chained in that room forever. "No. NO!"

"Looks like you're the one that's hopeless and weak now." Christian knelt down and looked at Brian, face to face. "Just like the good ol' days, huh?" He shoved his face down to the floor and chuckled. He noticed the two women looking at him with disgust. "What are you looking at! Get in the door before I fucking-" He pushed the door open and was about to force them out, until he saw a hanging tape recorder. It was labeled "Play Me, Christian."

A seed of paranoia had been already planted long ago, but this just took it too far. Someone knows who he is and managed to kidnap him into this place. Someone is playing mind games with him, a game he never took interest in. He took the player and examined it for a while. There was already a tape inside and a press of a button would start it. There was also a key taped to the back. What it was for, he didn't know. His hesitation didn't stop him from pressing the play button.

"Hello Christian." The same deep voiced man in the other tape and the TV spoke. The man was everywhere and nowhere. "Knowing that you are playing by my rules, have you changed your mindset towards people like Brian, or do you need a little more convincing? There is another key that can be used to release Brian from his older self. If you think you can help him change for the better, use this key to release him or leave him in this room, fully knowing that you will be the one to blame if he is to die in here. Be warned though, freedom is fragile."

The tape was loud enough for Brian to hear and he understood what it had meant. His life was now in the hands of the man who HE despised. It was the now other way around.

Christian took the key and threw away the tape recorder. "Looks like the tables have turned." He remarked. "How did you say it? Oh, I remember. I want you to beg." Christian was using Brian's words. The irony had struck him like a blow to the head, cheap and painful. "Beg me, convince me, tell me you deserve another chance."

"Screw you!" Brian tried to reach for the key, only to be slapped away.

"Begging is the only way out, Brian." A convincing as that sounds, he knew that a man's pride won't break easily. He should know. He had spent years deconstructing men and turning them into pathetic weaklings, men like Brian, that he went to a profession that expertise in such ways, one that would prey on the weaknesses of others. Yet, this same expertise would be his addiction.

He knew Brian had learned from his past, but today was a different day, a day where Christian had control over his future. When humiliation didn't work, there was always brutality. He kicked Brian when he refused to beg. Christian pocketed the key and began to beat him within an inch of his life. "I told you to beg! You're either going to do as I say or you'll die here right now!"

Teresa had enough. As weak as she was, she tried to pull Christian off of Brian. The other woman helped her, but his strength overpowered them when he pushed them outside the room. "Stay out of this." He put his focus back on Brian again. "So what'll it be, Brian. Time's running out and I don't intend on dying with you." He was right. They were wasting time when they should be moving along. The digital clock above them now read fifty-seven minutes.

Christian pulled Brian's head back by his hair and punched him square in the jaw. Teresa winced at the impact. He pulled Brian's head back and threatened to hit him again. "O…kay." A wicked smile formed on Christian's face. "Please…give me…give me the key."

He stood up upon hearing what he wanted. "What was that? I didn't hear you. Mind speaking up?"

"Please." Brian said, his voice a little audible because of the beating. "Give me the key." His head focused on the ground, ashamed to look at Teresa, ashamed to see her see him suffering.

"That wasn't so hard, wasn't it?" Pulling out the key from his pocket, he went down on one knee and faced the humiliated man eye to eye. "This thing, your key to freedom, you've earned it." He was about to set the key on Brian's hand when he did the unthinkable. He broke the key in half. Brian's head snapped upwards, seeing him break the key into little pieces. "Would you look at that? Freedom IS fragile."

The other man watched with glee on his face, enjoying what seemed like torture to Teresa. The other woman, obviously disgusted by the acts of the muscle-headed bully, tried to comfort her. "What have you done!?"

Christian chuckled as a response to her question, slowly walking out of the room. He didn't care about anything or anyone, all he cared about was himself only.

Brian struggled with the pieces of the key, trying to put it back together. It was a pathetic attempt seeing that it wouldn't hold itself together for more than half a second. He was desperately trying to hang on to that last piece of hope that key brought him. Now it was in pieces, just like the key. He looked up at Christian, who was now preparing to exit the room with his eyes still fixated on Brian. "Don't leave me here."

He reached out to Teresa, the first person he had freed. He expected a response, but Christian's acquaintance pushed her out of view. "No. NOOO!"

All they heard was his screams as Christian closed the door, following an automated lock shutting the door once again, trapping Brian inside the room.


	4. Night and Gray

Trust In Him:  
Chapter 4: Night and Gray

_Previously:_

_"Liana, meet our witness." Cooper announced, pointing to black haired boy in the blazer._

Detective Cooper opened a door where darkness filled every inch of the room. He reached for the switch near the door and the lights flickered open. In the middle of the room were a table and two chairs on two sides, both matching colors with the gray floor. The wall was a darker shade of gray, except for the one way mirror on one side. It was the interrogation room.

He welcomed in his witness into the room and asked him to sit down and he willingly sat down. "Drink?"

"No thanks." He replied. He brushed his hair properly with his gloved right hand as the detective sat down and scanned the papers he had in his hands.

Behind the one way mirror stood Detective Richards and Lisa Michaelson observing the two before the interview starts. Richards had offered Lisa a drink just to calm her nerves. She was so worried that her nephew would have done something bad to earn their suspicion. The warm cup of coffee was beginning to do its job after her initial sip.

"Don't worry, Lisa. We're only going to ask him a few questions. We're not going to pin anything on him." Richards said. It wasn't comforting to hear that he could've possible done wrong. Perhaps the police were looking for someone to blame, someone innocent.

"He's not like that." Her gaze focused on the teenager on the other side of the mirror. He looked straight at the detective in the room, arms and legs crossed, patiently waiting for the questions. "He's not like every other teenager who's onto drugs and sex. He's not like everyone else."

Sometimes, it's hard looking out for each other, even if they were family.

Cooper finally put down the files on the table and fixed himself up. He poured water into one of the glasses on the table just in case he went thirsty. "Okay, we'll need to start formally before the interview begins." He played with the glass of water with his hand as he told the teenager this. "State your name."

"Grayson David Carmine." The teen immediately replied. His eyes were locked on Cooper for some strange reason. Keeping eye contact probably meant maintaining his level of respect for the other person.

"Now Gray, is it okay if I called you Gray?" Grayson shrugged and Cooper continued his sentence. "We brought you here because –"

"My father's missing." He finished his sentence. It annoyed Cooper to an extent that after the interview he would search for an information leak inside the station. "I knew." Grayson directed a glance at the mirror, knowing that there were people behind it. "I heard."

"Can you tell me how you heard of it?" Cooper leaned in towards the table, interested at what his witness would say.

In the room next to them, Lisa was shocked to hear that Grayson had already known what had happened to Brian. She knew what Richards was going to ask her, so she answered before she got the opportunity to ask. "Last night when I called, he probably heard. He picked up his brother that afternoon and spent the rest of the day at Brooke's." Lisa looked out of the door's glass window and saw the teenage girl seated beside the kid she and Grayson walked in with.

Keith was preoccupied with his little game with the girl, Brooke. She could tell they were having as much fun messing around. An ear to ear smile from Keith could fill one's heart with joy, the same feeling Lisa was feeling now, but she remembered where she was. "He must've overheard the call before they got in."

What she told her was exactly what Grayson was recalling to Cooper in the other room. He would break eye contact only when he tried to remember exact details about what he did before fetching Keith and during his stay in Brooke's. "And what's your relationship with Brooke."

"She's my girlfriend. I'm sure you just asked that so you can confirm."

"Naturally." He then took out a photo from the files he carried around and placed it in front of the teenager. "Have you, by any chance, met this guy?" It was a photo of the car compactor victim, Evan Calibri. Evan sat inside his car, cautiously peering out of his car window with an unlit cigarette hanging out on his ear.

Grayson took the photo in his hands and examined it closely. "No, I haven't." he said after putting down the photo. "Though, I know where this is. But that's irrelevant. Am I right, detective?" Cooper chuckled and stood up. He may have been smiling outside, but he knew there was still something he didn't tell him, a gut feeling perhaps. He decided to follow it.

As soon he finished chuckling, he slammed his palm on the table hard enough to startle the teenager and the two women behind the mirror. "I know you're hiding something, something important that will help me find your father. You're keeping secrets!"

"I'm not keeping secrets! I'm telling you what I know!" Grayson tried to reason with the detective, but it didn't work.

"You're not telling me enough!" He ran his hand through his short hair, clearly trying to calm himself. Once he started shouting, he'd end up shouting until he gets what he wants. "I swear, if you're hiding something, I'll throw you in jail for obstruction. You don't want that don't you?" He shook his head, not quickly but slowly. He understood, but still refused to cooperate. He looked at the mirror, unknowingly making eye contact with Lisa. She, in turn, put her hand on the shoulder of Richards. Her concern for him came rushing back. "DON"T YOU!"

After taking a moment to think, Grayson let out a sigh and put his hand in his pockets. "Alright, that's the way you want it then fine. You get what you want." He reached into his blazer and held onto something. "But I want you to promise me that this will be between just the two of us." Grayson waited for a response. "Do you want this?"

"Fine." He gestured for Richards to take a walk or something. They heard what Grayson had said and had to comply, so they exited the room. Cooper waited for half a minute to make sure nobody was behind the mirror. "Okay, they're gone. Now what do you want me to see." Grayson slowly pulled out his hand from his blazer and what he saw shocked him. It was a tape recorder with the phrase "Play Me" written on the side.

Wide-eyed, he took it in his hand and pressed the eject button. A tape was inside, ready for its message to be heard. "I was just following the rules." He heard Grayson mutter under his breath.

"Follow the rules? What rules?" He didn't need to be forceful with him anymore. He wanted to be alone with him, and that's what he got. Grayson pointed to the tape, indicating that whatever rules he was following were inside the tape. "How did you get this?" The teenager shifted on his seat and closed his eyes. He began to recall what had happened.

"It happened a few days ago…"

_It was late that night; I was busy with a personal project. Nobody knew I was there, all part of the project. Nobody was supposed to know. It was part of the element of surprise. What was this project for? A distraction for a friend of mine. I was working well; the feeling of doing this alone was a nice change of pace. That was when my phone rang. Checking who was trying to reach me, I saw the caller: The Melody, the bar not far from where I was._

_I answered the phone with a hello and the man on the other side of the conversation spoke in a hushed voice. "Your father's overdrinking again. He needs a lift home." I tell him that I was on my way and ended the call._

_Dad was drinking his night away again. This had happened for quite some time now. It's transformed into some kind of routine for him. He leaves home in the afternoon, works until he's done, drinks, and someone gets called in to bring him back home. He probably doesn't know how he gets home. Once, a police officer brought him to our doorstep, piss drunk and rambling. Lisa had thought he had done something wrong. She decided to tell every bartender who worked in The Melody to call them if Brian was drinking late._

_So, I stopped what I was doing, packed everything in and put my stuff in the trunk of my car. Before I was able to start the vehicle, I noticed something on the dashboard. There was a piece of paper taped on one of the compartments that said "OPEN". Curiosity compelled me to do what it said, so I opened the compartment and saw the tape recorder._

_How it got there, you could tell me. Someone was stalking me. Looking around, I saw nothing but the street lights lighting the streets, the tall buildings where people worked and/or slept, and the occasional tree. There was no other living soul walking around. Its presence not only fed the fear slowly building inside me, but it was tempting me, telling me that whatever the tape had was important. Eventually, I pressed the play button and this ominous voice spoke to me specifically._

_"Hello Grayson. Clearly in your mind you see a lot of undeserving souls walking around you, but I see a much worse soul in you. I am giving you an opportunity to help change one man's life and his name is Brian Michaelson. By now, he is in his favorite place of all, drinking away his life. Your test will be an easy one for you, for you do not see eye to eye with your father. There is a drug somewhere in your car and you must poison him. If you choose not to do what I ask, there will be serious consequences. Remember Grayson, there are rules…" The tape ended. Choices. The tape gave me choices, choices that meant either life or death._

"It terrified me." Grayson told the detective. He was listening intently to the kid's story. As he told his story, his whole demeanor had changed. He had a cool aura when he walked in the station, though he seemed arrogant at first glance. The real Grayson was hiding behind this personality. Now he had his arms crossed, head looking down and was shaking. In the open, he's very much a normal teenager in times like this: scared, fearing for the worst.

"Go on. Continue."

_Before I left, I searched for that poison the tape said was in the car. I found it inside the compartment. It was an injection. I put it back inside the compartment with the tape and closed it. A choice had to be made._

_When I arrived at the bar, it was way past closing time, an hour to be exact. The bartender was waiting outside having a smoke. He was finished by the time I got out of the car. "He's inside." He pointed to the door. Upon entering, I could see him with his hand wrapped around a bottle of whiskey. Brian was grumbling, but what he said didn't make sense._

_"Dad?" I approached him. He didn't move. "Dad." He didn't make any sudden movements. He was wasted. "Let's go dad." I put his arm around my shoulder and dragged him to the outside. The whiskey bottle in his hand soon dropped to the sidewalk as I opened the car door and put him on the passenger's seat. When the car darted into the street towards a nearby light he suddenly spoke up._

_"Turn here." I seriously thought that the alcohol was seeping into his brain, but he knew what he wanted. I tried to argue, but he suddenly slapped me. "I said turn here!" There was no arguing with him. If he didn't want to go home, be my guest. Maybe the police would drag him back to our house. Lisa won't know anyway, she was at work._

_He directed me to drive and turn at some streets, until we got to this small house. "Stop!" I suddenly stomped on the brakes until we stopped. As I looked at the house, Brian opened the door and was about to step out onto the sidewalk._

_"What do you think you're doing?"_

_"Something I should've done long ago." My first reaction was to try and calm him down before he does anything else, like a good son would do, but do you know what he did? He pulled out a switchblade underneath him. It fucking startled the shit out of me. If that wasn't enough, he was about to get out of the car and possibly threaten someone. So I did what anyone with the right mind would, try and stop him. Even in his drunken state, he managed to fight me off. "Leave. NOW!" he said after closing the car door. Without even bothering to say anything else, I drove off. Before I turned on the next corner, I saw him enter the house and close the door behind him._

Cooper sat there silently observing his witness. He was the last one to see Brian and he didn't do anything to change his mind. Telling him off now would be a waste of time. Sympathizing with him would be the next best thing, but that was his partner's specialty not his.

"Keith's noticed how long he's been gone." Grayson mumbled. One would be concerned too if one's little brother got curious of where their dad might be. "I think he'll discover soon, maybe on his own accord. Please tell him you know where Brian. I don't want him worrying."

The detective nodded once, downing the glass of water in one go. "Don't worry. Everything's under control."

Outside the room, before Grayson had begun to recall the events of the day Brian disappeared, Brooke had heard loud noises from inside the interrogation room. She became more concerned when Lisa and Detective Richards came out of the observation room. "Is something wrong?"

Richards wanted to tell her the truth, but that would only cause her to worry more about her boyfriend. It wasn't her job to make everyone's day worse. So she told her what she needed to know. "Everything's fine. They just needed some time alone. Lisa and I will be going out for some air, she's worried sick." She took her arm and wrapped it around the shoulders of her friend before escorting her out.

The two sat there watching the two exit the hall and into the sidewalk. Keith didn't understand what was happening, but Brooke did. Mr. Michaelson was missing and his son was probably the only lead they had. It would be hard not to think what might happen.

"Brooke," Keith spoke up, his eyes focused on the videogame in his hands but his mind elsewhere. "Is Gray in trouble?" He looked up with those little blue eyes and it was hard not to say anything.

The brunette put her hand on the boy's head and ruffled his hair. "He's just talking with the detectives. He'll be out soon. Don't worry. He's not in trouble." They were there for at least fifteen minutes before the guy who brought them in told Grayson to follow him, add that with the fifteen minutes the two spent sitting there summing up a grand total of half an hour. Plus, they hadn't eaten dinner yet.

The teenager stood up and checked the other hallway if Lisa and her friend had come back yet, only to see a few officers walking around with paperwork and talking to some perps they had just caught. "Do you want something to eat?" she asked her little companion as she walked back. "Maybe there's something I can get from the store across the street. You want any?"

"Pepsi!" he exclaimed with a smile.

"Anything else? How about something solid?"

"Sandwich please." He didn't need to be specific. Grayson knew was Keith liked to snack on, something she learned as they spent time together.

"Okay. I'll be gone in just a sec. Don't talk to anybody you don't know, understand?" the child nodded. She didn't treat Keith like a child, but more of a younger brother. Brooke loves him as much as she loves Grayson, which someone could say is a lot. Though leaving him there alone was initially a bad idea, but she didn't worry for there were too many cops walking around doing nothing. She was sure nothing bad was going to happen.

As she walked her way towards the lobby doors, she noticed a strange woman sitting alone beside Detective Cooper's office. She was hooded in a black jacket, her face effectively covered. Brooke wasn't able to tell if she was a stalker or someone she knew. The person stood up and walked towards the interrogation room. Brooke stopped in her tracks and observed where the woman was going. When she turned into someone else's office and entered, she shrugged off the idea and continued on her way.

When she felt that she wasn't being watched anymore, the hooded woman exited the empty office and continued down the hall. She looked to her right and saw the lonely boy sitting with his mind focused on that game of his. She approached the child, removed her hood and revealed a beautiful woman, black hair flowed behind her neck and a gentle smile. Though she looked like she had experienced the after effects of substance abuse, she looked better than most. She knelt down, so she could see eye to eye with the boy. Keith looked into the woman's eyes with curiosity.

"Hello Keith. I believe we've met before."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you have any feedback, I'd appreciate any if you have them.


	5. Dealer and Customer

_Previously:_

_"Okay. I'll be gone in just a sec. Don't talk to anybody you don't know, understand?" the child nodded. Though leaving him there alone was initially a bad idea, but she didn't worry for there were too many cops walking around doing nothing. She was sure nothing bad was going to happen._

_When she felt that she wasn't being watched anymore, the hooded woman exited the empty office and continued down the hall. She looked to her right and saw the lonely boy sitting with his mind focused on that game of his. She approached the child, removed her hood and revealed a beautiful woman; black hair flowed behind her neck and a gentle smile. Though she looked like she had experienced the after effects of substance abuse, she looked better than most. She knelt down, so she could see eye to eye with the boy. Keith looked into the woman's eyes with curiosity._

_"Hello Keith. I believe we've met before?"_

The interview just finished minutes after Grayson had told Cooper what happened the last time he had seen Brian. Promising once again that the missing father would be found, Cooper finally allowed the teenager to leave the room. Now that he knew what he needed from the teen, he would investigate until he found another clue or anything that would lead to Brian. That was until he noticed that Grayson looked more anxious than he did telling his story.

"Something wrong?" he asked. He saw him glance left and right before looking at the bench in front of him. It was empty.

"Brooke and my brother. They're gone." Grayson said in a hushed voice, like he tried not to hear the sentence. "Do you know where they are?"

He shook his head as a response. "I was in the same room as you for the last thirty minutes. You think I knew where they'd be aside from here." That wasn't the answer Grayson wanted.

Lisa and Richards came around the corner, the former looking a lot better than her earlier state. They saw Grayson's worried expression, thinking something had happened between the two men. Lisa hurried to his side and took his trembling hands. "Gray? Are you okay?" he turned his head to the empty bench and Lisa immediately knew. "Keith? Where's Keith?"

"I don't know." Another line Grayson didn't want to say, but was forced to. Lisa turned to the two detectives, but both didn't have an answer. Thankfully, someone who may have had an answer came. Brooke walked in the whole matter with a can of soda on one hand and a plastic bag containing two sandwiches.

"Okay, Keith. Here's your –" She wasn't able to finish when she saw Grayson's face. His eyes were once focused on the bench before he heard her voice and had seen her joyously skipping with food in her hands. Now he looked at her with eyes filled with despair and fury, a foreign expression to see from Grayson. He quickly shook off Lisa's hands and grabbed Brooke by the shoulders, making her gasp in surprise and drop the food on the floor.

"G-Gray? What are you-?" He had taken hold of her shoulders with such force that he was beginning to hurt her. "Let go of me." Whimpered the girl to her enraged boyfriend. "You're hurting me!"

"You left Keith alone. Alone! Now he's gone!" Each sentence made Grayson shake the girl, each more intense than the last. It was scaring the girl and was making a scene. A crime had been committed, a crime that Grayson didn't want to happen to his little brother, inside a police precinct no less. Someone had to do something.

Cooper and Richards rushed in between the two and pulled the boy off of Brooke. She was already holding back tears when Richards had managed to force Grayson's hands off of her shoulders. She sat her down and stood between her and Grayson. Nobody was going to make the same violent move twice, not with her around.

A tall, dark skinned man walked over the scene, his stature emanating power and his brown eyes demanding order. He carried his hat around, displaying his balding head. He looked at the boy, who had caused food to splatter on the floor and had almost attacked the girl within five seconds between each other, and signaled for the other officers to come. "Please escort this young man back to his home so he would no longer make a mess in MY precinct. Understand?" His deep voice had the ability to scare off an elephant, along with most of his officers. The two officers who came nodded quickly and took Grayson outside. He just had his head down, still angry, and left with the two. "Better follow him too, detective." He said to Richards. "Just in case."

"Yes sir." She left without another word. A janitor had begun cleaning the mess on the floor as the man approached Cooper.

"You're now working three cases, Shawn: The murder of a drug dealer and the mysterious kidnapping of six people, including Brian and Keith Michaelson." He walked past him and didn't even turn his back as he continued. "I hope you know what you're doing." When he was finished, he turned into an office and closed the door. Clearly, a lot of pressure rested on Cooper's shoulders. Expectations were being raised. He had to hurry.

"I'll call you when I have something." Cooper told Lisa, who was now sitting beside Brooke. She was still shocked, naturally a common reaction after an attempted assault. "Go home. I have this covered." She only nodded and took Brooke by the shoulders before leaving. He still had a few things to sort out, so he made his way to his office. Once there, he adjusted his chair so he could sit. He was alarmed to see something that was not supposed to be there sitting on his chair. It was a pale puppet with red marks on its cheeks and black eyes. It was holding a piece of paper with a single line meant for the detective.

"Be careful detective or you'll be swallowed by the abyss." The puppet began letting out a mocking laugh.

-TiH TiH TiH TiH-

It had been only moments when Christian had slammed the door and sealed Brian's fate inside that room. Teresa looked defeated, unable to continue knowing that Brian would have died because she wasn't able to do anything to help. Her purpose, however, was renewed after hearing the encouraging words of the other woman.

"We're going to be okay. Don't worry; when we get out of here we'll call for help and save Brian, and then we can let these two burn in hell. That is, if we escape this shithole." She may have sounded that she had little faith in her words, but Teresa was always an optimist. Now, she needed to survive so she can call for help.

The two men lead the way through a labyrinth of locked doors and grimy hallways. All they had was silence and the metal collars around their necks that would blow up when the clock reaches zero. Now the time remaining was forty-nine minutes. Plenty of time.

When they turned a corner, they saw pictures hanging from the ceiling. There were five pictures, each having a person in it. Each was a picture of the four, plus Brian.

"So you're name's Teresa." Christian said, ripping the picture off of the thread it hanged off. "I'm guessing you're involved with Brian. Thought he was a family man, not a cheater."

"SHUT UP!" she shouted. "He IS a family man. His fiancé died in an accident. Since then, everything started going south. He hasn't recovered from the loss." She had known Brian all her life, from their first meeting up to the point where he shunned those important to him away. Yet, she was still there, right beside him whenever he needed support.

"I'm terribly sorry for him." The other woman said. She was holding her photo. There was a name imprinted behind it. "What did you ever do to him anyway?"

The question aimed towards Christian. He didn't make any eye contact with her as he only looked at his picture. "He helped me overcome an addiction. Problem was, there was another case against me and I went to jail for it. I got out early for good behavior and that was when I started aiming for professional football."

"Your name's Samantha?" The smug snake scoffed as he observed his own picture. It had the name "Albert" written behind it. "Whatever your name is, you're still a scumbag."

The woman named Samantha had been suppressing her anger towards the man now known as Albert ever since he badmouthed her in the power saw room. Now she had had enough of him. Even though she was smaller in comparison to him, she had the gall to grab him by his shirt. "If we get out of here alive, I will make sure your case won't stand in court. I'll make sure you spend the rest of your life in jail."

Face to face with her, he tensed "You don't have proof." His voice darkened. He did not expect her to know what he had done. In their current state, it was a small problem compared to their problem now. But if they managed to get out, then it will be all over for him. "You maybe a powerful figure outside, but in here you're in the same level of scum like me."

Teresa gave Samantha a look that said "Not now" that made her forget the problems between her and Albert. She let go of his shirt and stepped back.

"I'm just a film maker, nothing evil about that. Now you on the other hand, you're full of it. You ooze evil." He confidently fixed his shirt before pushing past Sam. They didn't know that Christian had gotten tired of the tirade between the two and had already walked down the hall and into another open door. The three followed his lead, until they saw a closed door just like in the first room with the phrase "Trust Them" written in red paint with more black and white photos displayed on the door.

It showed Christian, who was trying to hide his identity with a hoodie, but his size clearly gave him away. He was talking with another man in an alley. In another photo with the same two people, the mystery man was handing Christian a small paper bag. Behind the picture had the phrase "Dealer and Customer" written I red ink. One of the photos had the mystery man in his car, smoking a cigarette, and an inscription of the name "Evan" below. Another photo that stood out was one that had Christian, Albert and a third guy in a single frame, holding out their drinks, smiling for the camera to take the shot. This particular picture was different, it was in color.

"What the fuck..?" Albert tore the photo examined it quickly before tearing it into pieces. Christian pushed the door open and entered the room. Although uncertain, the three entered the room. The room had the size of a large bedroom, grimy and filthy just like the rest of the place. The only light in the room were neon lights on the wall lined into three rows on two sides of the room. There were two other doors, one for each side, but by the looks of it they were sealed. When all of them were inside, the door closed behind them automatically. "Hey!"

The unseen TV screen flashed to life and this time there was something else on the screen. Instead of the eerie puppet, there was a man in the video. He was aged, having white hair and wearing a black robe with a red interior. He sat in a dimly lit room, lit enough to see his face. The man on the screen looked at the four blankly before focusing his eyes on Christian, as if it was a live video. The look on Christian's face was surprise, like he didn't expect to see the man on the TV to be there.

"Hello Christian, You are a lot of things, as people tend to say, but you are not what your name implies. You know your past, so do I." Christian looked like he had seen something terrible. He hanged onto every word the man, not out of interest but of fear. " You caused pain and anguish to a lot of people and you were a drug addict and were imprisoned shortly after you were arrested for illegal possession. You claim that your term in prison changed your outlook on life, yet you and I know that you were lying. Ever since you started playing football, you became addicted to a drug that enhances your abilities, such as your strength. Let's see how strong you are without your medicine. In front of you is a chain that once pulled will open the door to the other room."

Above him, a large length of chain hung with its ends covered by the shadows. Both sides of the walls suddenly lit up brighter and revealed blank slots, big enough to fit a child. "Grab hold of it and pull, for if you don't the collar around your neck will explode and will result in your untimely demise. Weights will make your test harder. But do not let go, for if you do you will die a sudden, yet painful death. I need you to trust the others if you want to walk away unscathed. They will need to find a key to a switch that will disable your trap. Will you hold on or will you let go? Make your choice."

When the man in the video disappeared, the collar around Christian's neck beeped and a red light began flashing. "Who the fuck was that!" Albert demanded an answer from the big brute, yet he just stared into the wall. "Hey! I asked you a fucking question!"

"I know him." Christian said, his voice merely a whisper. He looked at the chains that hung above him, the rust on it were noticeable even in the darkness. Only he was tall enough to reach it.

"Is he the one who put us here?" Sam spoke, interjecting herself between the two men. "There was a murder that I heard where people were put in a set up like this. The killer was yet to be caught."

The others began to look at her. She knew something they didn't. Her attentiveness to the media had actually helped, bringing her knowledge that the others didn't mind. "Anything else you'd like to share?" Albert advanced towards her menacingly, but Sam stood her ground.

"Most of his victims died." Teresa gulped upon hearing this. Now they had a low chance of living through this. Things weren't getting any better. "His name is The Jigsaw Killer."

Christian listened to the information Sam was spewing out, but focused on his test. Looking around, he found nothing else that could help them. "Look behind that TV. There may be something behind it."

Teresa nodded, although she didn't want to be ordered around, yet she did. She didn't have time to argue with him. Looking behind the flat screen, all she saw was the wall and the wiring of the television set that vanished behind a hole in the wall. "Nothing here."

"What do we do now?" asked the crazed film maker.

The timer was still counting down. Forty minutes now and every wasted second would seal their fate if they weren't fast enough to act. This was going through Christian's mind. He was still trying to find another way, a shortcut to a much difficult road. Maybe that was why he was here. The drugs from his past were partly responsible. His methods to solving his problems were the cause and this was the effect.

"You heard him." Christian told him, still looking up towards the chain. "I have to do this or this thing around my neck will blow." He reached for the chains with both of his hands and grabbed hold of it. The others stepped back as he pulled it down, a sound being emitted from the behind the walls, like gears grinding. Then, one of the doors opened, slowly unlocking itself before swinging open.

"Alright. Trust us on this." Albert led the way to the room, leaving Christian to his test.

Lights were turned on as they ran inside, illuminating the area. It was smaller in comparison to the previous room. There were metal shelves standing side by side on one side of the room, a stack of boxes on the other and white sheets hiding a few more in one corner. There were wastebaskets of various sizes in the middle, plastic bags of trash sitting right beside it.

It was a storage room. The only thing out of place was a large lever at the side with a keyhole accompanying it.

They didn't know where to look at first, but they had to act fast. Christian didn't have enough time and they were tasked to find a key, a common object that symbolizes safety and freedom.

"I'll look over here." Albert said, approaching the side of the room with the shelves. Sam didn't say anything. She just walked over to the stack of boxes. Teresa did not move. She silently exited the room and took another look at Christian.

Christian, the man who left Brian to die. She can't let it go. The man was innocent, the reason why they were there. He didn't deserve it. She just couldn't accept it. Her emotions were in a mess, anger directed at the addict in front of her, pity for the others, especially Samantha, and regret towards herself.

"What are you doing!?" Christian shouted at her, breaking her out of her trance. "Look for the damn key!" After Teresa walked back inside the other room, something happened. There was a sound of something heavy dropping. He looked to his side, a small weight was added and the chain suddenly got heavier. The chain was being pulled by another device somewhere and the weight made it harder to maintain his grasp on it. "Fuck!" He adjusted his grip and pulled again, being careful not to let the chain slip.

Albert was knocking medical supplies out of the shelves while Sam finished looking inside the boxes. "Teresa, you finish up here. I'll check the bags." Teresa nodded and continued where Sam left off. Sam opened one of the bags and was greeted by a horrible stench. Inside was definitely garbage, leftovers that possibly came from a cafeteria the place had in the past mixed with anesthesia lazily disposed of.

She turned her head upon opening the bag, the stench becoming too powerful. Sam hesitantly reached inside the bag, feeling for anything small and metallic. "Nothing here, goddamit!" She heard Albert swore.

They heard another weight drop and another swear. Albert, now finished with the shelves, quickly opened the other plastic bag and blindly reached in. A scream escaped his lips when he touched something sharp. Drawing his hand back quickly, he saw shards of broken glass embedded on his hand and forearm. The bag was filled with broken glass. "Shit. You've got to be kidding me."

Teresa and Sam saw his forearm and the broken glass in the bag. Their eyes widened and they had a bright idea. "The key's probably there!"

"No fucking shit." He hissed angrily. "Hold the bag." The two women took hold of it on each side as Albert knelt properly and prepared to search the bag. With a deep breath, he plunged his arm inside the bag. Bits of glass grabbed hold of his skin as he searched the insides of the bag. He winced as he stirred the glass for the key, trying not to scream as the pain intensified. "How deep is this bag?"

For what seemed like forever, he finally touched something that wasn't glass. "Here it is." He felt around for the edges and found a handle. He tried lifting it, but it was too heavy to get alone. It needed two hands to lift it up. "Help me get this thing." He said to both of them. They looked at each other for a moment before Sam decided to help him. The shards didn't harm her much because of her sleeve, but some managed to get inside. She eventually found the other handle and took hold of it. The two successfully got what looks like a small chest out of the bag.

"How did that fit in there?" Sam gasped, surprised that something that size was as heavy as a cabinet filled with documents.

"Who cares? Just open it." Albert stood up, holding his forearm and tried to remove the glass. Teresa let go of the bag and turned the chest to face her. Slowly, she opened the chest, a long creak accompanying it, and revealed a large key ring the size of a fist with the symbol of freedom. The problem, there were enough keys to fill a pair of shoes.

"Found…it yet?" Christian's voice echoed from the other room. He was sweating, his palms slowly getting wet and further increasing the difficulty of hanging on. Another weight dropped and Christian was close to losing.

The three didn't know what to say. They found it, but didn't know which one it is. "There has to be a thousand keys here and only one stops it." Sam said softly. She searched the other two's faces for a reaction, only Albert went the extra mile to express it by toppling one of the shelves. Metal crashed to the ground, supplies hitting and rolling off the ground.

"What the fuck is happening in there!" The test subject quickly asked. His voice demanded an answer, only getting nothing.

"Try everything!" Albert shouted at Sam. He picked her off the ground and pushed her to the keyhole. "Make it fast."

Sam, keys in her shaky hands, began trying one key. It didn't work. She tried key after key, slowly going faster, making sure the failed keys didn't join the untested ones. Albert went to the other room and back in the storage room. Back and forth he went, anxiously waiting. "Hurry it up!"

Another set of weights came down.

"I'm trying the best I can." She replied. Being under pressure was not helping her. Looked over her shoulder she saw Teresa just kneeling in front of the chest. There was nothing else she could do. Everything was now up to her.

Teresa looked dazed. Everything confused her. Why would the Jigsaw Killer give them a way out when the way out turned out to be an impossible method of escape? Sure they found the keys, but it would take a lot of time to see which one would work. It didn't make sense. Maybe the Jigsaw Killer made this inescapable for Christian. Maybe he shared his view with her, thinking Christian didn't deserve to live.

Then it hit her the same time one more pair of weights was added.

Right beside the chest was a small bottle of medicine. She took it in her hand and checked what it was labeled. The label on it read "Anabolic steroids".

Ever since you started playing football, you became addicted to a drug that enhances your abilities, such as your strength.

She shook the bottle and heard something rattle inside. Sam, on the other hand, was at the end of her rope. "None of these works!" She threw the key ring to the ground, further emphasizing its uselessness.

The film maker reacted differently. He picked up the keys, grabbed Sam by her clothes and shoved her to the wall.

"What do you mean nothing works?" He was breathing quick breaths down Sam's cheek, panic clearly flashing through her eyes. "You're wasting time. MAKE! IT! WORK!"

"I can't hold on much longer!" Christian was already depleting the last of his will to hold on. Albert looked, seeing Christian's grasp was nearly moments away from slipping. He turned back to Sam and he forced the keys into her hands.

"The key isn't in there!" Teresa mumbled her voice turned her words unintelligible. Sam looked over Albert's shoulder, making him look too, trying to make sense of what she said as Teresa opened the bottle. It was now a race against time. Shaking its content out, a single key popped out into her hand. "The key…" she whispered. Albert let go of Sam and took the key. He fumbled with it momentarily as Christian was losing his grip, finger by finger.

"…F-fuck…" Christian groaned. His friend slammed the key into the keyhole and victory was imminent.

Almost.

Christian regretted trying to move his finger to adjust the chain; his hand had become smooth with sweat that the chain slipped from his fingers. Shocked of what had suddenly transpired, he swore as the chain pulled itself up, being pulled towards both sides by the weights. The sounds of machinery attracted the attention of the three, all reluctant to look in. Christian didn't have enough time to react when four sets of large of weights, rectangular in shape, were released above from all sides and it swung towards Christian's torso.

"No!" Albert tried to react, only to have himself to be pulled back into the room before impact. The weights collided with Christian's upper body at a speed of a charging football player with the mass of helping add to the strength and speed as it moved downwards. Bones shattered and internal organs were damaged hard enough to break it down into road kill. His rib cage punctured through his lungs and his heart exploded upon impact. His intestines burst out of his abdomen and it decorated the floor with blood and some long, pink organs. The upper body was now an image of its former self. Christian did suffer a quick and painful death.

His body fell over, gently moving the weights as he plopped down to the ground. Albert, Sam and Teresa were mortified of what they saw. "Holy…shit." Albert was the first to speak. He was shaking his head profusely as he tried to approach the body of his friend. Teresa tried to put her hand on his shoulder, telling him that he died trying, but refused to be touched.

The other sealed door then opened, revealing another hallway with an arrow guiding them to go to the right. Sam was the first to exit the room, in a hurry to erase the picture of Christian's dead body, perhaps regretting looking at him post mortem. She was slowly followed by Albert, trying to hold back his emotions. Teresa, however, felt neutral. Sure she felt resentful of Christian, but he was human being, a cruel human being for that matter. She stood over the body of Christian, his eyes wide open and mouth gaped wide. She knelt and closed his eyes and mouth and took one more look at him. She wished her life wouldn't end tonight.


	6. Consequences

_Previously:_

_"I'll call you when I have something." Cooper told Lisa, who was now sitting beside Brooke. She was still shocked, naturally a common reaction after an attempted assault. "Go home. I have this covered." She only nodded and took Brooke by the shoulders before leaving. He still had a few things to sort out, so he made his way to his office. Once there, he adjusted his chair so he could sit. He was alarmed to see something that was not supposed to be there sitting on his chair. It was a pale puppet with red marks on its cheeks and black eyes. It was holding a piece of paper with a single line meant for the detective._

_"_ Be careful detective or you'll be swallowed by the abyss. _" The puppet began letting out a mocking laugh._

_-TiH TiH TiH TiH-_

_The other sealed door then opened, revealing another hallway with an arrow guiding them to go to the right. Sam was the first to exit the room, in a hurry to erase the picture of Christian's dead body, perhaps regretting looking at him post mortem. She was slowly followed by Albert, trying to hold back his emotions. Teresa, however, felt neutral. Sure she felt resentful of Christian, but he was human being, a cruel human being for that matter. She stood over the body of Christian, his eyes wide open and mouth gaped wide. She knelt and closed his eyes and mouth and took one more look at him. She wished her life wouldn't end tonight._

* * *

 

"Teresa, time's running." Sam was obviously right. Christian's test had taken away about seven minutes from the timer, meaning thirty-three minutes was left in the timer. It continued to take away a second as they waited for Teresa to exit the room. "What are you doing in there, we have to move."

"Nothing." She replied as she exited the room. "Let's go."

The three navigated the hallway in silence, constantly looking at the walls to see if Jigsaw had left any more subtle hints and clues to the next test. All they saw were red arrows pointing straight down the hallway and often pointing different directions when they came across an intersection.

"How long did you…know…Christian?" Teresa was the one who broke the silence. She directed her question towards Albert, who looked downwards at the photo in his hands that contained him, Christian and an unknown third person.

He didn't look up, yet he answered. "Two-three months, probably." He said quietly. "We were close. We were trying to fight our addictions, tried to anyway."

"What do you mean tried to?" Sam asked. Albert slowly turned his gaze at her, his harsh glare meeting with her eyes.

"You know what my addiction is. Don't try faking it. You and the entire police force were looking for people like me before things like this happened." Albert told her. He pocketed the photo in his pants as they turned a corner. Sam had already forgotten that someone had just died, like his memory didn't matter anymore, and continued to advance on Albert's criminal past.

"So you're admitting you those crimes? You're confessing?" She smugly said. Albert stopped walking, his hands balled into fists as his entire body shook with anger. He caught Sam in the stomach with his fist when she turned around, sending her to the ground on her butt. He stood high above her as she coughed and felt her stomach.

Albert knelt in front of her and grabbed Sam by her hair. She tried to fight out of it, but he held her wrists in front of her. "Yeah, I'm confessing. I admit I did those crimes." He menacingly told her. "So what if I did? I've been walking free for a year before someone had the guts to tell. I moved to another town, this town, where I began again. Christian knew and he disapproved of it, tried to talk me out of it and surrender. My agent didn't even know anything about my past because he's a greedy bastard, who only cares about the money his people make. I made him a lot of money with my masterpieces!" His grip on her hair grew tighter with each sentence. He pulled her closer to him, his mouth just inches against her ear, making sure she hears his "confession" clearly.

"Stop it! We don't have time for this." Teresa cried. She would have tried to help Sam out, but she didn't know what the criminal in front of her was capable of.

"Those women were a side project. To tell you the truth, I enjoyed doing it. Every. Last. Second of it." He licked the side of her ear, making Sam gasp. She tried shaking him off, which wasn't necessary when he let her go with a slight chuckle. He stood and continued down the hallway, head held high like he had accomplished something.

Sam slowly got to her feet and coughed blood from the blow she received. Wiping the blood on her shirt, she fixed herself to give the illusion that nothing happened before following the arrows. "What did he mean he did those crimes? What crimes?" Teresa caught up with her, walking her speed as she asked the question. Sam didn't answer. She knew that words can't express how vile, immoral, and disgusting the acts Albert have done. She didn't need to explain. The answer was in front of them.

They stopped in front of a set of white double doors. The doors separated a dimly lit hallway from a completely dark room except for a little beam of light focused on the center of the room. "Remorse Makes You Human" is written across the door with the same red paint they saw previously.

"I think you'll find out now." Sam says as soon Albert opens the doors. They follow him inside, darkness enveloping them as they slowly advanced towards the spotlight. Broken glass littered the floor with every step the three make bits and pieces break into smaller parts of themselves. A small microcassette hung by a small thread swung in the light, the phrase "Play Me" taped on the side. They stepped up on the platform that took most of the room. The platform floor looked so clear, unlike the rest of the floor, that their reflection could be seen. Albert took the microcassette in his hands and pressed the play button.

 _"Hello Albert,"_ Jigsaw's voice greeted him like he already knew him with the other not knowing who it was. " _Ever since you were a child, you thought of yourself as a visionary, but you never knew what separates a dream of a visionary and a dream of a grandiose reality. As an independent movie director, you attempted to make these dreams in reality while dealing with a severe problem. Do you remember when a woman named Diane auditioned for a role in your movie and won it, but because of your lust you rejected her. You made her do "special roles" for you, recorded it on film and blackmailed her to keep it a secret, just like the numerous women before. This led to her eventual demise. Criminals often feel regret for their victims, but not you. Remorse is a forgotten word for you. I want you to take a look at the mirror and look at what you have become."_

Another beam of light from the ceiling was activated and pointed to a mirror right beside Albert. It was a small, square, filthy mirror. He took his hand and touched it, wiped it a second later to see his reflection. What he saw was an image of his soul. A despicable soul. _"What does a voyeur see when he looks at a mirror? Today we will find out. I want you to destroy your former self and begin your transformation. Reach out to the truth and you will find what you seek to end your test."_ Lights blinded them with their initial flash, filling the room with light and revealed the secret of the room. The platform they were standing on was made of mirrors. The walls connected to the platform were also mirrors, reflections of the test subjects greeting their real counter parts with their shocked faces. The floor surrounding the platform lit up with red light, square tile by square tile were now glowing with the color of blood.

 _"Watch your step,"_ Jigsaw warned them through his tape. _"For if you fall off the platform, you might meet an untimely demise."_ He was right. Numerous shotguns above the glowing tiles pointed down on the exact tile. As a demonstration, something was dropped down from the hole in the ceiling. It was the puppet that spoke to them in Brian's test. When it landed on the red tile, the shotgun above it discharged and it tore the puppet into pieces. _"Will you learn to show remorse for the people you have hurt or will you continue to terrorize your victims with your emotionless tactics? The choice is yours."_

The tape ended its message with a click. Only the sound of a beeping timer on one side of the wall could be heard. "…Diane?" he said to himself, breaking the silence. Why was a name so unfamiliar to him important now? "Who the fuck is Diane!" He turned to the girls where he might find an answer. All he found was one face filled with revulsion and another showing growing rage. He tried to say something, only to be decked by a single punch from Teresa. Albert sat on the mirrors with hand on his cheek, surprised of what happened.

"Diane…was a friend of mine." Teresa said, holding her aching hand close to her. Her hand felt like it pounded on a wall. "And she…was Brian's fiancée."

-TiH TiH TiH TiH-

Grayson sat inside the police car in silence, his face buried in his hands, ashamed of what he did in the police station. What he done did nothing to help his brother, wherever he was? On top of that, he blamed it all on Brooke. What kind of man was he? Blaming a kidnapping on his girlfriend? He should have stayed calm, but it was difficult to be calm knowing that someone out there had his little brother, who knew nothing about the horrible side of life. He should have blamed the police for their incompetence. It happened in their building after all. How could someone sneak past a dozen of cops with a child in tow, who could have been making a ruckus, and get away scot free? It was stupid.

Unbeknownst to him, their car was being followed by another car from a distance. Detective Richards didn't want to give away herself in case Grayson did anything. He did try to threaten his girlfriend right in front of her eyes; maybe he was capable of something more. That she didn't know for sure, but she had to know that he makes it to his home safely. She was thinking of the condition of Brooke. The girl must've been pretty shook up to her boyfriend suddenly enraged. "Poor girl." She muttered to herself.

Everything was fine, nothing suspicious was going on, until they came to an intersection where the police car should have not turned. "Where are they going?" wondered the detective. Richards turned and stopped her vehicle. She wasn't going to take any chances on this. Pulling out her phone from her jacket, she dialed a number for the police station as the police car continued to drive straight.

"Hello?" a woman on the other line answered.

"Hey, this is Detective Liana Richards. I need something looked up on." She said to the phone after putting her car to "Drive" and followed Grayson's escort.

"What do you want looked up on, detective?" Richards didn't respond. She was busy being inconspicuous, slowly following them through a set of turns until they stopped in front of a house. "Detective?"

"Yeah. I need an address looked up. It's 48 Marcelo Drive." She could hear the keyboard making noises on the other side of the call. A few seconds later, she gets an answer regarding the house. "Well, you're not going to like what you're going to hear. We have news of a possible breaking and entering of the premises a few days ago. Nothing was stolen though, but the perp is yet to be caught."

"How about the owner?"

"The person who owns that house is Christian Nichols, the town's brightest star. Did you know he has a criminal record?"

"I read his file." She disconnected the call. All of her questions about the house were answered. Only thing she needs now is an answer from Grayson himself. Richards checked her pistol, which was resting peacefully in its holster, and exited the car.

Grayson opened the door of the car and left his seat. He looked up towards the house and saw the door slightly opened if one were to look closely. "This your house?" One of the cops asked from inside the car. The teenager looked over his shoulder and nodded. Before the two could leave however, one of them took a look at his rear view mirror and saw Richards running towards them.

"Freeze!" Richards called out to Grayson. She drew out her gun and pointed it at the teenager. He didn't raise his hands, but he looked at the detective with irritation. "Where do you think you're going? This isn't your house."

"I lied." He looked at the two cops in their car. "I'm sorry." He solemnly apologized. When he tried walking towards the house, Richards once again told him to stop. "What do you think you're doing? I'm not breaking any laws."

She kept her gun pointed at him. "Not on my watch. This house was just recently broken into and I think you're the one who did it."

"You don't know what you're talking about." Grayson began approaching her, not fearing the gun directed at him. When he reached her, he slowly reached for the gun and made her put it down gently. "I didn't break in that house. My dad did."

"Your dad?" She didn't believe his words. She doesn't trust men who put their hands on women with violence in their minds. Grayson was part of that list after seeing his actions earlier. "Brian broke in there?" Grayson remembered that she didn't hear his story earlier in the station. Richards needed proof if she was to believe him. So he told her that he was the one who drove Brian from the bar and planned to take him home until he ordered him to take him there. Richards thought maybe he was making this up as he went, yet it felt like something was urging her to take a look.

"I need to know what he did inside. He might have been planning on hurting someone. Maybe he killed the owner of the house, I don't know." Grayson told her. Half of her mind was telling her to screw procedure and help the kid out while the other told her to detain him for trespassing. She made up her mind.

"Alright." The detective sighed. "But don't touch anything." He nodded. Richards went to the cop car and gestured them to follow her lead. She approached the door with caution, Grayson right behind her and the two cops armed with shotguns following behind him. Upon reaching the doorstep, she opened the door with caution. "Clear." She said to the two after inspecting the area. "Check the upstairs." The two men in uniform complied and ascended the stairs to their left.

The interior of the house was creepy in the night. The lights outside entered through the windows and the small crack Richards left at the door. Christian's house looked like what an athlete's house should look like. Almost everything was tidy except for a handful of misplaced clothing. There was one room that was made into his personal gym, a large mirror taking the space of one wall entirely; his equipment lay untouched in the room for what seemed like weeks. A treadmill, floormats, dumbbells with sorts of sizes, bars, benches, and more were in the room. "It seems like our "favorite" player hasn't touched one of these for a long time." Richards mused as she walked past the room after a quick examination.

After reaching the kitchen, the two officers came down the stairs as silent as mice. "Nothing out of the ordinary upstairs." One of them reported.

"Okay. We look around down here. You guys take the living room and we'll check the guest room." Richards told the two. They didn't wait a second longer to leave the two in the kitchen. She looked over her shoulder and saw Grayson looking inside the refrigerator. "Do you know why your dad broke in here?"

The black haired teenager closed the refrigerator door and sat down on one of the stools near the counter behind him. "I don't know." Grayson answered in a defeated tone. "He doesn't talk much about his job. He used to be so…enthusiastic about everything. That was until mom died." He pulled out his wallet and showed the detective something. He was pointing to a picture. "That's her. Diane Carmine."

He was showing her a photo containing the entire Michaelson family: Diane, Brian, Grayson, Keith, Lisa, and two elderly individuals. Diane Carmine knelt between her two sons with Brian and Lisa standing right behind them. She had Keith and Grayson in a loving embrace, both of them laughing as their father smiled. The two senior citizens standing beside his father must be his grand parent, whom Richards haven't heard of. A loving family or what was once a loving family. He may have not seen it but Richards took a closer look at the photo and switched between Diane and Grayson. She saw the obvious features he inherited from her mother: her eyes, her hair and her smile.

Before she could say something, one of the officers came back. "You need to see this." He pointed towards the living room. Richards followed him to the living room as Grayson quickly placed the picture back in his wallet as he walked. The other officer stood at the other side of the room where the windows were, trying to see if someone else was planning to break in.

"There." Sitting on the mahogany coffee table was something they didn't expect to see. A microcassette stood at the center, the side had been used to write a name, Grayson's name, in red. It was accompanied by something one could see in a horror film: a pig mask that had a slimy surface which made the mask look like it was decomposing and the top of its head had hair, long black locks that tried to imitate a human being.

"Grayson?" She turned to the troubled teenager, who is surprised as her to see his name on a belonging that is not his, inside someone else's house. He picked up the microcassette and saw the tape loaded inside it. "Put that down."

"No." Grayson firmly replied, eyes still trained at the object labeled to him. "I need to listen to what it says." He pressed the Play button with his thumb and the tape played, the four intently listening to its contents.

 _"Hello Grayson. Simplicity is somewhat complicated in the minds of others. All I asked was one simple task, something that you are fully capable of, yet you refused. You have failed your test. Now you will suffer the consequences."_ As he heard the final word of his message, he dropped the tape player in pure shock. He could hear the mocking chuckle from the message as it plunged towards the floor. The tape ended when it hit the expensive carpet covering the tiles of the floor.

Then he ran. "Grayson, wait!" Richards tried to reach for him, but he was already out of her reach. He ran through the house, through a hallway past the kitchen and into a room. It was the guestroom. Taking her pistol from her holster, she quickly ran to the guestroom.

Inside was a clean bedroom, double king size bed for Christian's guests with two sets of pillows put on the top. The curtains to the window that faced the backyard were closed, covering a view of the room. Drawers surrounded the bed, a convenience for those staying in the room as it were an arm's reach away from the comfortable mattress. Grayson knelt on the side of the bed and a picture frame was in front of him. Richards holstered her gun and approached him.

"He…he has him." Grayson's voice broke into sobs. He had seen something horrific and the detective didn't know what to say. The picture frame on the bed was something of interest, something Grayson tried to peel his eyes away but can't. Richards approached the bed slowly, hand reaching for the frame while Grayson pushed himself off the side of the bed into a slumped sitting position on the wall. As tears began to fall from his eyes, which he tried to stop, Richards took a look at the picture inside the frame. She almost dropped it in astonishment when she saw Keith behind a glass window, his face barely visible behind the red jigsaw puzzle pieces drawn on the glass, almost covering every inch of it.

On the bottom it said in red ink: _"Your Punishment."_

-TiH TiH TiH TiH-

Keith was scared out of his mind. He was taken somewhere he didn't know existed when he has lived in a perfectly conditioned house with his brother and father. He didn't know what to do. His existence in the world has been too short and this treatment was too soon. The only thing that terrified him more of the room he was in was the woman outside taking a picture of him.

The Polaroid photograph slid out of the device newly printed from the recent photo taken. She waved it around as she walked over to the counter that was as dirty as the entire place. On the counter that was right in front of Keith's room had four computer monitors, all playing a live feed from the test subjects' location. One had already died, another is locked away, and the others still have their own tests to deal with. Black and white pictures were put up on the bulletin board beside the monitors. One picture had a red X on it, signifying a dead test subject, while the others remained untouched. As she checked the monitors, a door opened and a hooded figure stepped inside the room. Keith could only stare at the two as no sound got in the room.

"Amanda," the hooded man said. Amanda turned around and saw him limping from the door, a result of his ongoing battle within with the disease that could kill him in time. Death, however, was not in his plans today.

She turned the swivel chair so he could immediately sit in front of the monitors. "Did you harm the boy on the way here?"

Her reaction was to only walk towards the glass window and put a hand on it, a smile forming on her face. "No. He's too young for violence." Amanda walked back to the monitors as she continued her reply. "What do we need him for, John? You already have a game going on."

"I know." He said as he removed his hood. Beneath the hood was a man, his name was John Kramer, known to the media as the Jigsaw Killer. "Those who want to live their lives create a purpose for their existence. A purpose or motivation is always needed in order to act. Today we will need someone to act, someone whose aim is to do the right thing who will decide whether our main test subject lives or dies. He will be motivated to act and that motivation is Keith. Now another test is set in motion."

The apprentice stepped away from the monitors as Jigsaw explained his plan. Everything always led to another, an elaborate blueprint that his method seemed to follow. She didn't know who he was alluding to. Keith was close to one person and one person only, and he was just a normal teenager. To her it might not matter at the moment because she is just only helping him in spreading his message, but to Jigsaw, every piece of the puzzle was crucial for the right result to come in the end.


	7. Through The Looking Glass

_Previously:_

_The tape ended its message with a click. "…Diane?" he said to himself. Why was a name so unfamiliar to him important now? "Who the fuck is Diane!" He turned to the girls where he might find an answer. All he found was one face filled with revulsion and another showing growing rage. He tried to say something, only to be decked by a single punch from Teresa. Albert sat on the mirrors with hand on his cheek surprised of what happened._

_"Diane…was a friend of mine." Teresa said, holding her aching hand close to her. Her hand felt like it pounded on a wall. "And she was Brian's fiancée."_

Brian lay on his stomach feeling the cold floor of the room he was locked in. It had been exactly thirty minutes since everyone left him there, cold, alone and desperate. He had been pulling at his chain, clawing at the shackle locked around his ankle, but all of his attempts would end in naught. He screamed for help, his voice just barely audible through the walls.

He was locked away for his decisions, his choice to help people. Did it make him a bad man to protect those who had ruined their own lives? Was defending those who needed a second chance at life make him a criminal? He was an honest, tax-paying, law abiding citizen and has a family to take care of. But all of that changed when she died.

Diane Carmine, the love of his life. Her death turned Brian's world on its head, the remains of their dream of a perfect life were left burning at her grave. She had died from a horrible car accident. He saw the car she used that day turned almost upside down with flames burning inside the car and outside, an image forever burned in his mind.

_He received a call from a friend who told him Diane had been in an accident. It was terrible news. Immediately, he got inside his car and bolted to where Diane was. He couldn't bring himself to think of something horrible that could happen to her. "Please be okay. Please be okay." Brian kept praying as he sped through traffic._

_Grayson and Keith weren't with him. They were with Brooke. This wasn't the time to bring them along. It would break their hearts if something were to happen to their mother._

_When he got there, his face twisted in agony as he saw the wreck. An ambulance was there. It was starting to depart. They must've gotten Diane out of the car. That positive thought burned to ashes when an officer saw him and asked if he was Brian Michaelson. After he replied, he was handed a small purse that survived the fire and a small photo inside. Diane had died on the spot._

All of that raw emotion of anguish flow right out of his eyes as tears upon seeing the scene. There he cried, on his knees as the fire fighters put out the devouring flames on the vehicle. It had been the darkest day in his life. His life had fallen apart.

Soon afterwards he quit work, started locking himself in his room where he would grieve his loss day in day out, for a whole week. He even contemplated suicide, but couldn't bear abandon his sons. His two sons, one nearly an adult and the other just a mere child, but he was proud of them both. He just couldn't think of leaving them alone with memories of misery. His death would burden his beloved sister of the responsibility of caring for them. She had her life ahead of her, a goal to reach for, something Brian didn't have after Diane's passing. Everything was just a sad, miserable orchestra and he was just waiting for the final note to play. That was when everything would end.

For the first time since the week of Diane's death, he cried.

If somehow, someway he were to escape alive from the clutches of the killer who put him there he would change everything wrong in his life. He would spend every waking moment with his children and make amends to his sister. He would quit drinking and start living an honorable life, something he has been trying to accomplish for months. Just thinking about those times he had wronged those he loved filled him with heartache. Before he could, he would have to overcome his first problem to a new life. He would have escape.

-TiH TiH TiH TiH-

Who the fuck do you think you are?" Albert caressed his cheek that was now burning with pain. He tried to stand, eyes locked with Teresa, only to be pushed back down again.

"You," Teresa's voice shook with raw emotion. Albert didn't know that a woman her size was capable of such strength. But she only got lucky because he wasn't paying any attention to her. Now he was and she intended to get his full attention. "You ruined him. You ruined him!"

"And who are you to talk, huh? You're in here too. You must've done something to him too." Albert said. It was his turn to accuse her, even if he didn't know her connection to him. But that changed when she flinched. "That's right. You did something too? See, everyone in this is sick in the head!"

"Don't change the subject!" Sam stepped up beside Teresa. "You're still a fugitive for multiple counts of blackmail, rape and aggravated sexual assault. Nothing is ever going to change that! All those women you harmed, those women who were humiliated and killed, forced to live with a life threatening secret never being able to fight back because they were afraid that you'll ruin their careers. They've-" Albert threw a wild punch to her cheek, knocking her down to her side. Teresa let out a surprised gasp. She quickly rushed to her side and saw where he had hit her. Sam's cheek was beginning to swell as blood began to drip from her lips. Her hands gently touched the area, which made Sam flinch.

Albert shook his hand thrice to get some feeling back as he slowly approached the two. He took great pleasure in hitting Sam, almost giving him a moment's reprieve from his friend's death and from the psychological torture that Jigsaw had been endowed on them. Right now he didn't care about his test. It didn't make sense to him. What he was planning to do made sense to him.

The lights above him casted shadows that angled to cover the emotionless eyes from the two. He looked at the two with evil intentions. He reached past Teresa and grabbed a fistful of hair Sam's, forcing her to stand up. Instead of begging to be released, Sam tried to fight back. This made Albert slam the side of her face on one of the mirrors. The force of his brutal attack cracked the surface of Sam's reflection. When Sam moved against him, he slammed her against the mirror again just to make his point clear.

He was breathing down her neck, every breath sent a chilling wave down her spine, an act he enjoyed doing to his victims. Teresa sat there terrified, not knowing what to do. Even if his attention was focused on Sam she may need to watch what she says or do. She doesn't want anything bad to happen.

"You're right." Albert whispered in Sam's ear. "I am a criminal. It's an urge I can't fight. I admit it, I'm a predator. This….is my vice." Sam could feel his hand hover over her back as it slowly went down her spine. She gasped and tried to move, her resistance earned her another forceful push towards the mirror. The cracks on the surface grew longer, splitting Albert's facial reflection on the mirror as a long pointed piece fell off. "Question is, what are you going to do about it? You're a lawyer, you can figure it out, right?"

Teresa eyed the piece of glass that fell off. Albert's attention was fixated on the woman who had sought his capture long ago. Her hand shook as she slowly reached for the mirror fragment without making any sudden movements. "How about you, huh? You have tried everything in your power to win every case handed to you. What makes you any better than me?"

Her next move was critical. Sam's future rested in her hands. When her hand had finally made it to the fragment, she gave out a silent sigh to calm herself and gripped the fragment tightly. Its sharp edges tore the skin on her hand, cutting through the tissue and collided with the muscle as blood started to run out of the tear. She didn't notice this, her mind concentrating on what she planned on doing with the fragment. With a shout, she swung her arm towards Albert and the fragment stabbed the side of his knee.

The perverted film maker screamed upon feeling the sharp edge slice through his skin, the fragment implanting itself on the muscle until Teresa pulled it out a few moments later. Sam elbowed Albert off of her to free herself. She gave him a taste of his own medicine and pushed him face first into the glass he had damaged with her face. The mirror gave away, broken glass were now littered around them as Albert continued to cry out in pain. His face had been embedded with shards of glass, some fortunate enough to blind his left eye.

"God…damn." He muttered as he wiped the blood coming from his eye. He tried to open it and more blood came out. The wound on the side of his knee had already decorated his pant leg with enough blood that it stuck with the wound. Though he could barely see it, the clock had gone past the thirty minute mark and was now at twenty-nine minutes.

He was about to stand when Teresa pointed the sharp fragment towards his face, just mere centimeters away from his cheek. "Don't you dare move." The point of the fragment was dripping with blood, his blood. He raised his hands as a gesture of his surrender. He could notice her hand shaking, in fear perhaps or she was still surprised she had stabbed him. He would have grinned, but didn't want any more punishment. That choice would not be for him to decide.

Sam's skull ached with pain. Albert's actions had left an effect on her, her eyes blurred with the trauma she had suffered from him. Nonetheless, she saw the remains of the mirror she broke with Albert's face and was surprised at what she saw. There was a small hole behind the mirror. It was dark, but big enough for someone to reach in.

_I want you to destroy your former self and begin your transformation. Reach out to the truth and you will find what you seek_

That was what Jigsaw had meant in the tape. Albert needed to destroy the mirrors and see if the key was inside the holes. "Teresa. I know what to do now." Teresa saw the hole beside her and it got her gears to grind. Even Albert turned his head to see what the two women have discovered. Sam took the fragment from Teresa's hands and stood in front of Albert. "Stand up."

He looked at her with contempt and turned away. "I said stand up." Sam forced the fragment's edge against his cheek until he yelled at her. "You're going to do what that tape told you."

"Or what!" Albert shouted. Being told what to do was the biggest sin one could commit against Albert. He was a director before his criminal urges got the best of him. It was him who should order other people around, not the other way around.

"You'll follow the rules or you'll never see the light of day." Sam pushed the sharp edge against his skin until it ripped his skin. Blood seeped through the wound slowly, some sticking onto the mirror's surface.

Albert would have replied, but the situation had worsened for him. It may be two against one, the two being weak women he could take care of, but the traps around him could be used against him. Not if he could turn the tables to his favor. Sam saw his features twitch as he thought of a plan, which made her force the blade even harder, bringing him back to reality. "Are you going to follow the rules?"

Hesitantly, Albert moved his head to a nod. Sam smiled and pulled the mirror from his face. "Good. Now stand up." He stood up silently, carefully eyeing that piece of the mirror in the lawyer's hand. "Now, reach in that hole and see if you can find the key."

Albert's eyebrows furrowed in confusion. He looked at the hole beside him and only saw darkness. It was a narrow mystery, one he can solve if he were to reach inside. "You're crazy. I'm not doing this by myself." The film maker said. "Even if I did I won't make it in time."

"That's why you won't." Sam then turned to Teresa, who stood idly after examining the hole behind the mirror. "You'll help him, isn't that right Teresa?" She may have trusted Sam, but the idea of helping scum like Albert didn't bode well with her. After much thinking in such a short amount of time, she finally agreed. "You start on the other side. He'll start over here."

Teresa walked over to the other side of the platform and checked the mirrors. After the lights being turned on, she had just noticed how filthy the room was. Aside from its walls and pipes all over the room being covered in rust, the floor was littered with garbage. Even the platform they were standing on had its own collection or trash. Scattered pieces of paper covered most of the reflective floor. Dirt was smudged all over mirrors, almost blocking Teresa's image.

Although she agreed to help, there was no way she could break the mirrors all by herself. Brute force was not her forte. She needed an aid, something to strike the mirrors with and maybe, just maybe, she could find what they were looking for. Then she spotted a small pipe right at the edge of the platform.

"Hey Sam, maybe this could help." She tossed the pipe towards her direction and it landed near her feet. "I'll try getting this one."

Sam picked up the rusty pipe and pushed Albert to the side. She grasped the pipe with both hands after putting the fragment in her hands inside her pockets and gave one of the mirrors a solid whack. The mirror made a circular crack right where she hit it. Sam then shoved the pipe horizontally exactly on the crack and the rusty conduit went through the glass. Parts near the crack fell off and were followed by more as Sam tried to clean out the edges. "Have fun." She handed the pipe to the bloody Albert, his injured eye almost giving her a glare.

As they were breaking one mirror at a time, Teresa looked for another pipe she could use for herself. In her search she found a plank of wood right near the edge of the platform. Another barrage of glass being shattered came as she walked towards the plank. Albert reached inside the hole and suddenly screamed. Teresa looked sideways, seeing Albert's arm now scratched and cut everywhere. The sleeve of his shirt wasn't enough to protect the skin underneath it as it looked like it went through barbed wire. The bloody sight made her foot accidentally knock the plank off the platform and on a red tile, activating it. The gun above the tile discharged, a loud boom almost tearing through their ear drums.

"Teresa, what the hell-?" Sam turned towards her out of concern. In that moment, Albert took the opportunity and hit Sam with the pipe across the back. Before she could react, Albert grabbed her by her shirt and pulled her to his side right near the edge. Teresa almost went for the weapon Sam held before Albert's attack, but stopped at the sight of Sam standing over the end of the platform right underneath the shotguns with the only thing keeping her alive was the criminal with the bloodied eye.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," He said with a wincing smile. "That is if you want her to die."

He tossed the pipe towards Teresa and pointed to the wall of mirrors behind her. "I'm tired of breaking these mirrors. It's your turn now."

"But YOU'RE supposed to do it. It's you test!" Her voice rose to a level Albert didn't like. He gently pushed Sam towards the shotguns but didn't let go. His hostage gave out a panicked shriek after seeing the shotguns positioned above her. "Okay, okay. I'll do it." She took the pipe from the floor and got up slowly.

"Now be good girl and hurry up." Albert pulled Sam against him and took the piece of broken glass in his hands so he can threaten her with it. Teresa had already begun on one mirror, her swings definitely weaker than his. She eventually broke through, revealing another hole. She immediately looked back on Albert's arm, the disgusting effect of reaching inside the dark hole. With no choice, she put her left hand in slowly at first.

When her wrist was inside, she could feel something around the hole. It was cold and sharp. Broken glass. There was broken glass placed inside the hole. She could feel her skin being torn away as she delved deeper. As soon as her elbow was in, her pain would turn into torture. Unmerciful spikes replaced the glass, puncturing and stabbing her arm as she squirmed in pain. "Now you know how I feel." Albert said behind her.

Teresa's arm filled the hole and yet there was nothing valuable inside. She drew out her arm gently, trying to lessen the punishment it took when she was reaching in. "Nothing." said Teresa, clutching her arm.

"What do you mean "nothing"?" Albert pointed to the other mirrors with the makeshift blade made out of glass. "Keep looking."

Sam wanted to struggle out of Albert's hold. Punch him, kick him, anything to get out, but they were in a room where one mistake they could make might be their last. So instead of fighting, she just stood still as Albert threatened Teresa continuously as she tried to break another mirror. Sam isn't entirely helpless. She is always thinking. Every good lawyer had to be smart to survive in a courtroom where everyone was bound to a certain set of rules. Even now she was bound to her a set of rules, her own rules. First rule: always try to find a way out.

Teresa had already broken another mirror and was already reaching in with her left arm once again. The cuts were now longer and deeper making it easier for the harmful obstacles to puncture the muscles. After a few moments, she was again at the end of her reach. Again, nothing. Before Albert could bark more order at her to hurry up, she swung at another mirror with the pipe and broke it in three more swings.

There was about twenty four minutes left on the timer on the wall. The more time she spent worrying about herself, the more possible the collar around her neck would explode. She used her right arm to reach in. Her left arm had suffered more than she had expected. Blood dripped from her wounds, some droplets would come down on her other cuts. All of her suffering would end when she felt a small object pass her fingers. She straightened and felt the object again. It's the key. "I think I found it."

Albert's smile grew ear to ear. "Wonderful." He pushed Sam aside and walked up towards Teresa. "Pull it out."

She twisted her arm so she can grab the key with her fingers. Once she had it in her grasp, she pulled the key and her arm out. The three didn't know that he key was tied to another trap. Above the hole Teresa had clawed in, the mirror hid a Colt Python .357 Magnum positioned as if it were held by a living being. Its long silver nose pointed towards the mirror and loaded with a single bullet. The trigger was tied to the key underneath it by thread of thick yarn. Upon its pulling, the revolver was activated, firing the bullet outside and hit Albert.

The film maker fell to the ground and immediately yelled out in agony. The bullet had entered and exited through his right shoulder. Blood exited from his wound as Teresa looked on, her hands on her mouth. Sam didn't waste any more time by taking the key from her, putting it in the keyhole and deactivated the tiles. The red lights turned to white, the door that was unreachable earlier now swung open.

Teresa looked at Sam and then at Albert, who was trying hard to get up on his own accord. "What do we do with him? Leave him here to die like what he and Christian did to Brian?"

"No." Sam shockingly replied. She even surprised herself after all he's done to her. "Jigsaw said that we needed to change ourselves for the better. We're doing that by not letting anybody else die."

"How…..touching." groaned Albert. He was already sitting at the edge of the platform while the two conversed.

"Shut up. We're not wasting any more time." Sam took the pipe from Teresa's hands and nudged Albert forward. "Lead the way."


	8. The Expert

_Previously:_

_Teresa looked at Sam and then at Albert, who was trying hard to get up on his own accord. "What do we do with him? Leave him here to die like what he and Christian did to Brian?"_

_"No." Sam shockingly replied. She even surprised herself after all he's done to her. "Jigsaw said that we needed to change ourselves for the better. We're doing that by not letting anybody else die."_

_"How…..touching." groaned Albert. He was already sitting at the edge of the platform while the two conversed._

_"Shut up. We're not wasting any more time." Sam took the pipe from Teresa's hands and nudged Albert forward. "Lead the way."_

_-TiH TiH TiH TiH-_

_"He…he has him." Grayson's voice broke into sobs. He had seen something horrific and the detective didn't know what to say. The picture frame on the bed was something of interest, something Grayson tried to peel his eyes away but can't. Richards approached the bed slowly, hand reaching for the frame while Grayson pushed himself off the side of the bed into a slumped sitting position on the wall. As tears began to fall from his eyes, which he tried to stop, Richards took a look at the picture inside the frame. She almost dropped it in astonishment when she saw Keith behind a glass window, his face barely visible behind the red jigsaw puzzle pieces drawn on the glass, almost covering every inch of it._

_On the bottom it said in red ink: "Your Punishment."_

* * *

 

Grayson David Carmine had finally arrived home. He rode inside Detective Richards's vehicle, sat beside her and quietly contemplated what happened inside Christian's house. The photo displaying Keith being held captive, the very photo he was holding to right now, was the consequence of not killing his own father, his own father, of all people. _'What kind of a madman would ask for something like that? Taking a life isn't a game.'_ And for obeying the law than following a madman's "rules", his punishment was Keith's abduction. _'Everything doesn't make sense anymore.'_

The car had already stopped and parked right in front of Lisa Michaelson's home. "I need to have a word with Lisa. Stay here."

She was about to get out of the car before Grayson spoke up. "You're going to tell her who kidnapped Keith, won't you?" He said. Grayson didn't look up, his eyes trained on the photo in his hands.

"I have to. She has the right to know." replied the detective as she got out. Right before she closed her door, she told Grayson something. "Everything will be fine. I'll find your brother." Richards walked up to the front door and rang the doorbell. It was nearing midnight, about twenty five minutes until midnight to be exact. Everything that was happening at this very night was the most work she had ever done in her tenure as a detective.

She waited patiently in front of the door as the evening wind blew softly. The wind chimes above her made a soothing sound that could calm almost anyone. Not Richards. The only thing that could calm her down was lying down in her house for the next five hours. If she's lucky, she'll get a day off after this.

Lisa finally came to the door and opened it as soon she got a glimpse of the person outside. "Thank goodness." She sighed in relief. "I thought something had happened when you didn't arrive earlier. Please tell me nothing bad happened." Richards didn't avert her gaze, but a twitch on her face almost confirmed Lisa's fears. The figure sitting inside Richards' car calmed her down a bit, recognizing Grayson from a distance as he sat idly, his gaze held downwards.

"Don't worry," Richards clapped her hand on Lisa's shoulder. "He's fine. He can handle himself." Grayson's head turned towards the two and saw Richards's gesture to come out. After he pocketed the photo, he opened the door and closed it once he was out.

"Grayson!" Lisa came running to her nephew and embraced him like he was her own son. "Are you okay? Did something happen?"

The teenager returned the hug before glancing up to the detective. "Nothing bad," He replied. Grayson quickly entered the house as soon they separated. Lisa and Richards were left outside underneath the light coming from the porch.

"Lisa, there's something you need to know." Richards spoke up after a certain amount of time. "I think I know who kidnapped Brian."

While the two talked outside, Grayson stood at the dark center of the living room, the only light switch was on the other side of the room. When he flipped it to turn on the lights nothing happened. After flipping it a few times, he realized the lights in the room didn't work since yesterday. He remembered Keith sticking right by his side when they arrived from Brooke's place that night and the lights didn't work. He was always right beside him, always there for him.

Grayson shook himself back to what he was doing, not wanting to think about his brother. He was in danger and yet he can't do anything. Richards promised him that she'll find him. Could he believe such words when they don't even know where to start looking for his father? Maybe it was another little "test" by the kidnapper. Before he could find something to distract himself with, he heard footsteps coming down the stairs in the other room.

The dining room had its lights turned off, nobody was inside anyways. Lisa always made sure that nobody would waste electricity in her house. That was a lesson he learned from her throughout all the years and a lesson Brian was working to perfect in their household. Inside was the staircase to the second floor, where the shadowy figure was finished descending, right beside the dining table that was fitted with a plastic layer on top so no mess would affect the perfectly crafted surface. Placemats were positioned right before each chair, two on each side of the square table, something the shadow held an interest. Perhaps it was the unique placemats that were given to Lisa three years ago. Grayson stepped into the doorway and searched for the switch beside him. He felt it to his right and immediately turned it on.

"Brooke." He muttered when the figure was revealed to be his girlfriend. She looked at him in shock, as if not expecting him to be there. Grayson saw the fear in her eyes when their eyes met. Her brown hair was let down from its ponytail, some clung to her face over the dry tears. She had been crying and it was his fault.

She bolted towards the stairs, not wanting to see him in fear of another fight with him that might end in violence. He managed to take hold of her wrist when she turned, stopping her in her tracks. "Brooke. Brooke, please listen." Grayson tried not to harm her, maintaining a good enough grip on her wrist as she tried to pull. "Please, don't make this any harder than it is."

Brooke made a sound through her closed lips, something that personified trepidation. Grayson slowly pulled her towards her as she resisted. Even if he wasn't the lifting type or the fitness expert, Grayson still manages to do moderately fine when it came to physical activities, which were now helping him in his struggle with Brooke.

Her attempts to get away were getting slimmer as he calmly pulled her in an embrace. She was still trying to push him away and it was draining her resolve. "Please. Just listen." His free hand went to her back while the other still restrained her other hand, which almost came close to hitting him in the face. Bit by bit, Brooke calmed down, her arms stopped swinging and her body went stiff. Brooke's face leaned on his shoulder, her eyes again filling up with tears, some even went down to Grayson's jacket.

"I—I 'm sorry," He whispered in her ear. "What I did was wrong. I should—I should have not blamed you for what happened." Grayson clearly remembered what he had done. He was filled with anger and disbelief that his brother was taken and aimed all of it towards the most important person to him. "It wasn't your fault."

At last she finally ended her futile attempt to separate from him. She was sobbing against his shoulder as he talked. "This happened because of me." Brooke looked up to him, her cerulean blue eyes trying to read Grayson's face but he had already looked away. "It's because of me Keith was kidnapped by the Jigsaw Killer."

Grayson saw the look on her face. She was obviously horrified. Brooke had always devoted her free time to look at current events and the current event that stood out the most when she would research were articles about The Jigsaw Killer. If Grayson had encountered Jigsaw, then it would only be a matter of time that something would happen to him. "What- what did you do?" She asked as her sobbing began to fade bit by bit. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I thought it was nothing. I didn't know The Jigsaw Killer made that tape or that he would actually act on it." He remembered what the tape said. If you choose not to do what I ask, there will be serious consequences. Remember Grayson, there are rules. The rules were clear and he made his decision.

"You should have told me." Brooke said. She stepped back, leaving the warmth of Grayson's arms. "I could've helped you."

"Helped me? How could you have helped me when the only option was to kill my father?" Grayson's voice rose to a shout. He quickly heard his tone and took in a breath of air in order to calm himself. "There was nothing you could've done to help. I'm sorry you could've done anything. Let's leave it at that. Right now, the police are trying to Jigsaw and Keith."

Brooke sat down on one of the chairs around the table. This was probably too much to take in. Grayson's revelation and the sudden helplessness added to her anxiety. It seemed almost impossible for this to happen to someone else with the same age as her. Now all she have to do was wait for the police to do their job, which she doubt would manage a problem that is getting bigger by the minute.

"Don't worry," Grayson sat in the chair right beside her. He took one of her hands into his and reassured her. "They'll find them. I'm sure they will."

-TiH TiH TiH TiH-

"This is a sick joke made by a sick man. I will not take this lying down!"

Cooper had been making his case in the chief's office for about a minute, a very long minute, after seeing that doll in his office. He had the note in his hands that contained a message from whoever it came from. _"Be careful detective or you'll be swallowed by the abyss."_ It was a taunting line from the person responsible for what everything that has happened today. That he very much guessed.

"Tell me, how do you plan on doing just that?" the police chief replied. Cooper dreaded that very response. He had already thought of what he'll do to the guy who sent him this message, but how he plans to catch him resulted in a dead end. "That is one of your flaws, Cooper. You know WHAT to do but you don't know HOW to get there."

"Eventually he'll have to poke his head out of the rat hole he holed up in and when he does I'll be right there to catch him." Cooper flung the paper that landed near the plaque that read "Chief Charles Winston Wilson".

One of his fellow officers stopped by the door and interrupted before Cooper could say more. "Sir, she's here."

Cooper turned to the chief and back to the officer. "Who's here? Is she more important than my case?"

"No." Wilson stood from his chair and walked around his desk. He took the note Cooper brought with him and put it in his pocket. "She's here to help you. Follow me." He exited his office with Cooper right behind him. The two entered the lobby, which was oddly quiet with the TV spouting out news reports and commercials being the only one filling the hall with noise. The officers doing paperwork walked ever so silently, footsteps hardly making a noise on the smooth surface of the precinct floors.

Watching the new report onscreen was a woman with brown hair in a beige coat. Her back was turned and she was listening intently to the reporter on the TV. Cooper heard the words "murder" and "jigsaw pieces" from the TV had Cooper thinking she's a fan of a psycho. "Shawn, I'd like you to meet Detective Allison Kerry, resident Jigsaw expert."

She turned around when she heard her name and saw the two. Kerry smiled and held out her hand. "I appreciate the introduction, chief." The two shook hands as Cooper looked on. "You must be the detective working this case." Kerry said when she faced him.

"The name's Cooper." He stated this in an irritated tone. "I don't have time for this. Whatever your expertise is, I don't need it. This guy needs to be brought down as soon as possible." Cooper headed for his office and grabbed his coat from the chair. Wilson knew that he couldn't stop a determined detective like Cooper. This didn't stop Kerry from trying.

"I wouldn't rush into Jigsaw's lair if I were you." She called out as Cooper walked away from them. "You don't want to share the fate of Detective Tapp!"

Cooper's hand stopped in mid-reach for the doorknob. "What was that?" He looked over his shoulder as Kerry approached him.

"Detective David Tapp." She repeated the name, but it didn't make much sense to why was this person was so important to Cooper. Kerry saw that she was losing Cooper's interest the more she wasted his time with a name he didn't know. "You're wearing the same shoes, metaphorically speaking, as he was detective. He was, like you, tracking down the Jigsaw Killer-"

"The guy who's doing this is called the Jigsaw Killer?" Cooper interrupted her comparison. "The guy who kidnapped six people, one of them a child, and murdered a wanted criminal, whose body we found hours ago?" The news didn't surprise her. It didn't even register an emotional reaction to her. Even the inclusion of a little boy, who probably is in the middle of the crossfire, was nothing to her. Kerry stood there expressionless arms crossed on her chest, but replied with a simple nod.

"He's the same person who has killed two victims recently, but didn't actually kill them. It's his method." The newscast Kerry was watching a little while earlier had been reporting about The Jigsaw Killer. There was a picture of the body with the jigsaw piece at the center of the photo. "Detective Tapp was hot on the trail of Jigsaw. Do you know what happened to him?

This was old news to Chief Wilson. Apparently, Cooper didn't pay attention to the news when it didn't feature him. Seeing him mentally stumble into a memory about a fellow cop gave him a fraction of satisfaction. It's not that he dislikes him, he actually respects him. It was just a matter of self-confidence and Cooper has a lot of it.

When Cooper reached a dead end on his memory, he just plainly shook his head and was about to turn and head out. Kerry took him the by shoulder and explained. "He and his partner, Detective Steven Sing, eventually found Jigsaw's lair. They went in to bring him in, alone without any back-up. They didn't know Jigsaw prepared traps just in case. As a result, Sing died and Tapp got his throat slashed by Jigsaw." Cooper flinched at the image that flashed in his mind, one that his vivid imagination made. "Don't worry. He made it out alive. Unfortunately, he's not in the force anymore."

"What we're trying to say is," Wilson began after clearing his throat with one solid inner cough. "The Jigsaw Killer is a dangerous individual. What happened to Sing was tragic, but it happened because he and Tapp were careless. We don't want more dead cops."

They had already lost Cooper by this point, yet they didn't know it. He feigned interest as they spoke while he was thinking. Not about Detective Tapp, who was someone he didn't care about even if he was dead or alive, but his mind lingered on Jigsaw's method. It was diabolical and yet smart. He didn't have to pull the trigger, only encourage his victims to do so. "Creative" Cooper thought. "But creativity doesn't win you points in the court of law." As he was pondering, his eyes moved around, occasionally looking at his superior and their visitor and their irrelevant words. Other cops chatted behind them, pointing out inconsistencies on alibis of connected people to their cases or tried to, while some tried to busy themselves with mundane activities. As he was scanning the hallway he spotted something that led to an idea, something that looking at him at an angle.

"Look, I'll try to be less of Tapp and more of me." The detective assured the two, yet Wilson knew how Cooper operates. He was sure he was hearing another bullshit promise. "In the meantime, I believe I can solve the mystery of who kidnapped little Keith Carmine."

Chief Wilson quirked an eyebrow upwards. "Really now? Care to elaborate?"

Cooper didn't need words to elaborate. He simply stepped between Kerry and Wilson and pointed slightly to the right. The two's sight was led dead on to a small object on the ceiling, black, round but was like an orange cut in half. On the wall was a camera and it had just recorded Cooper pointing at it.

-TiH TiH TiH TiH-

Sam and Teresa found a set of staircases that led upstairs and let an injured Albert, who was shot in the shoulder by a rigged revolver in the previous room. He was five steps ahead them with the pipe behind him had only a few inches of space between them. His shirt had absorbed most of the blood from the wound, decorating a quarter of back and front portions with the red fluid. The three's forearms were scratched in various angles and depths. It was the only thing the three shared aside from the desire to live.

Upon reaching the next floor, their progress was suddenly halted by a pile of furniture that blocked access to the next floor. The door in front of them was cracked open with a sign reading "Upper Ground" at the center.

"Go ahead." Albert looked over his shoulder angrily at Sam. She had been taking lead of the trio since his test and it eating away at his pride. Never in his life had he taken orders like this. It was always the other way around. When Sam nudged him forward, he almost lashed out; striking the pipe aside with his forearm, but the bullet wound prevented him from following up.

Even if Albert was a prime suspect of violating numerous young actresses, he was still human and seeing him suffer like this was tearing her apart. She wanted to help him, only to have Sam stop her. "He'll be fine." Sam told her.

"Are you sure? He's in excruciating pain." The obvious statement made Sam roll her eyes. She pointed at him and silently whispered her reply.

"Five minutes ago, he forced you to put your hand in a hole filled with razor wire and broken glass while he had his filthy little hands all over me. He was this close to pushing me to my death." She put up her hand and made a small space between her thumb and index finger. "He deserved to be shot and probably to die a slow death."

"He was desperate and scared." Her voice drew out all of the reason she could muster to point out something about Albert. "WE are desperate and scared. That is our instinct to do. Either we do it ourselves or have other people solve our problem. Sadly, we have to choose the latter."

Sam put the pipe's end on the ground, slightly leaning on it as she eyed the other female with doubt. "Why are you suddenly on his side?"

"If you were him, would you have done the same thing?" The two stood there silent for a second before Sam shook her head and dismissed Teresa's question. Teresa mumbled something under her breath that made Sam turn her head. She decided to ignore it.

Albert felt the cold metal around his hand as gripped the handle and tried to pull open the door. He was hesitant on doing this, for this could have another booby trap on the other side waiting just for him. On the other hand, he struggled on opening the door. The bullet wound wasn't the one to blame this time. "There's something holding the door." He grumbled as he tried to pull.

"What do you mean "holding the door"?" Sam expressed her displeasure by crossing her arms as Teresa approached to help. She held the steel handle with her two hands and mouthed a countdown starting from three. A silent zero came and the two pulled and it was enough to open the door.

The handle on the other side was tied to a thin string inside that ended below a flat screen on the wall. It turned on by itself when the string was pulled and static displayed over the screen. The three rushed into the room when they heard the TV make a noise. When the last one of them entered, the room closed, shutting them in.

Sam spontaneously took hold of the handle and pushed hoping that the door would open again. The room looked awfully familiar to Teresa. There were no images of this very room in her memories, but it still reminded her of something. There was a counter far from them. It looked like the rest they saw, old and abandoned. There were some a pile of papers strewn all over the surface right beside a broken down computer monitor and a desk lamp. Remains of potted plants stood slumped over in a yellowy curve of its own stems, the leaves that were long dead resting on the dirt that encased its thin as floss roots. She noticed that there were comfortable couches, or what was left of them as they now looked like they had been manhandled and torn apart, on both sides of the wall before the counter.

Just when she was on the verge of figuring out what was the place, she felt Sam's hands on her shoulders as she was spun around until she faced the TV. Displayed on the flat screen in black and white was an angle of a room lit at the center with a man lying face down on the ground underneath the light.

"BRIAN!" Teresa shouted over at the screen. She couldn't hear anything from the TV and the TV can't send sound back. If only her voice could reach him, then she would tell him that everything will be alright. Above the TV, the phrase "Last Chance" was written in red and below was a small open ventilation shaft. It was only small enough to fit in rats.

"What the hell is this? Is this a joke?" Sam shouted towards the TV. "We already know we can't do anything about him. What does this mean!" she pointed to the phrase above the television. She then heard Albert chuckle, as in taking this whole affair as entertainment.

"It's probably…his way of taunting us," he said. He was seated on one of the ruined sofas, looking at his bloodied shirt with disgust. Albert lost more and more of his consciousness the more time passed and still he tries to carry on. "And when I say us, I mean the both of you. Face it!" he tried to shout at them, only for it to come out as a heavy gasp. "There's nothing you can do for him now."

"Don't listen to him," Sam told her. She had her hand on her forehead, trying to think of something. "Is this a test? Do we have to do something to go on?"

Teresa took a look at the screen one more time. Brian's figure had moved into a sitting position where he pulled on the chain a few more times until he stopped. His hands were at his face and his head was visibly shaking. He was crying. The sight of the man she knew as her closest friend made her eyes fill up with water. She shook her head and finally spoke to Sam. "It's not a test." She said, her voice had a slight echo of determination in it. "It's an opportunity." Teresa put her hand in her pocket and pulled something out. Inside her hand was a key.

"A key? Where did you get a key?"

"Back at the second room, when you were telling us about the Jigsaw Killer…"

_Christian listened to the information Sam was spewing out, but focused on his test. Looking around, he found nothing else that could help them. "Look behind that TV. There may be something behind it."_

_Teresa nodded, although she didn't want to be ordered around, yet she did. She didn't have time to argue with him. Looking behind the flat screen, all she saw was the wall and the wiring of the television set that vanished behind a hole in the wall. Then she noticed something out of the ordinary. Taped on the wall was a key with a small paper attached to it. She pulled it off quick and held it in her hand. "Nothing here." She lied as she kept the key hidden from the others. When they were looking away, she kept the key and the paper in her pocket._

_Later while she was searching for the key that will deactivate Christian's trap, she took out the paper from her pocket and took a peek at what it probably had in it. All it had written on it was the word "Freedom". "This could be the key we're looking for." She thought. She took one look at the keyhole near the door and was foiled. The key in her hand was too small. It wouldn't work there. Instead of disposing what could be a fake key, she put the paper back in her pocket and decided to keep it to herself._

Teresa kept silent and braced herself to what Sam could say next. She just eyed the key in her hand until Sam spoke. "So you're telling me that this key you found could be of use here?" Teresa shrugged.

"I'm not sure." She said. "But this is our last chance to help Brian. We have to do it."

"No." Sam stepped back and pointed to the screen. "It's YOUR last chance to help him." Sam pointed out. Since Christian had forced them to leave chained by the ankle in the middle of a dilapidated room, Teresa felt the need to go back and help him. They were close, best of friends since they have met each other. He helped her in a time of need and now was the time to pay him back. "It's your choice."

She took a deep breath and a moment of contemplation, and then she tossed the key into the ventilation shaft. They could hear the key making its way down by the sounds it made, hitting the sides of the shaft on the way.

"C'mon," Sam nudged Teresa and pointed to the double doors down the hall. "We have to get moving."


	9. Drowning In Sorrows

_Previously:_

_Teresa kept silent and braced herself to what Sam could say next. She just eyed the key in her hand until Sam spoke. "So you're telling me that this key you found could be of use here?" Teresa shrugged._

_"I'm not sure." She said. "But this is our last chance to help Brian. We have to do it."_

_"No. It's YOUR last chance to help him." Sam pointed out. Since Christian had forced them to leave chained by the ankle in the middle of a dilapidated room, Teresa felt the need to go back and help him. They were close, best of friends since they have met each other. He helped her in a time of need and now was the time to pay him back. "It's your choice."_

_She took a deep breath and a moment of contemplation, and then she tossed the key into the ventilation shaft. They could hear the key making its way down by the sounds it made, hitting the sides of the shaft on the way._

_"C'mon," Sam nudged Teresa and pointed to the double doors down the hall. "We have to get moving."_

-TiH TiH TiH TiH-

It may have been time that strained his sense of thinking, but Brian felt like he was being watched. Hard to believe it may be, since that, he thought that the place he was in had the tiniest chance of catching the slightest of interest from any normal denizen of civilization. Maybe it was his mind playing tricks. He hasn't been alone this long, not ever. Even during his fiancé's death, either Keith or Grayson, or both of them, would knock at his door and check if he was alright. Now there was nobody checking up on him.

Amidst the darkness, he could still see the corners of the room where he saved Teresa, that other woman and the boastful loudmouth, who acted on rage because he had insulted his opinion, and freed Christian. He and Christian knew each other well enough to have that one feeling towards each other remain dormant for years, a feeling of hatred for each other.

" _That son of a bitch made sure I was stuck here._ " He thought to himself. The broken pieces of the key that would have released the metal brace around his leg lay close to him. He tried to put it back together, but what was the point? It would never hold together long enough for it to work. " _If he's still out there, I'll make sure he gets stuck here, whatever it takes._ "

He tried thinking of something to do when he heard a faint noise. Brian sat up, struggling to figure out what was making that sound. At first, it was a gentle tick, and then it became a bit louder each time. It sounded like metal bouncing off each other like a basketball being dribbled faster and faster. Then something fell out in front of him. He wasn't able to see what it was because of the immense darkness throughout the room, but he heard it clearly when bounced off the floor.

Then everything became silent once again. Brian waited for a few moments before moving, taking note of where the thing landed. He scrambled to his hands and knees and searched the floor when nothing happened. He was acting on pure desperation. If there was anything he can find, anything he can use, he would gladly do so. He randomly felt around the ground, hoping he was near enough the thing to take it in his hand. If it were out of his reach, then he was just wasting his time.

As he went on his search, he found himself pulling the chain that restrained him at the center of the room until he couldn't anymore. He swore under his breath and thought that he might have been wrong and that it could've bounced in another direction. Turning around, he checked carefully the floor, cautiously sweeping the ground with his forearm in the hopes of finding it quicker than his previous strategy. While he was going to his left, he felt something under his arm. It was an unusual tinge of coldness. He put his arm down once again and felt it again. It was a colder than the ground he had gotten used to for the past forty minutes.

He did this once more and finally put his hand above it. Brian took it in his hand cautiously, careful to avoid juggling it into the air. When he was sure that it was close to him, he felt around the edges until he figured out what it was. It didn't take him a long time to finally figure out that it was a key.

It took him less time to locate the keyhole on the metal brace around his ankle. He pushed the small key in and turned, the brace's weight around his ankle was loosened until he heard it land on the ground. A gasp of surprise left his lips, not even thinking that it would actually work. He kicked the brace away from him with the foot it once restrained and stood up. Brian began chuckling, then turned to laughing delightfully now that he was able to move unrestricted, but the cold grip of the collar around his neck reminded him that he wasn't quite free yet.

Then the sound of a door slowly swinging opening inwardly brought him back to reality, the light from the other side were almost bright as the sun. Brian's eyes had to readjust to the brightness that almost blinded him. He noticed that the door that opened wasn't the one the other used to exit the room. It was another route. He took a tentative step towards the door, first checking what awaited him outside the room. He could see a staircase leading upstairs with an arrow drawn in red paint on the wall pointing along the direction of the stairs with the word "Exit". There was something else waiting for him, a small table right before the staircase. What he found on the table was a note that read "For your eyes only" and two other objects of interest.

-TiH TiH TiH TiH-

Teresa was in no smiling mood. Her arms were covered in blood, scratched and scraped by barbwire and glass and threatened with death by the bomb around her neck. She knew that there was still more to come, one that would be meant for her, just like Brian, Christian and Albert, trials that tested their will. Only she and Sam remained unaddressed by the serial killer. Only time would tell when that would be, and time was running out.

Sam led her to a set of double doors down the hall after her making her decision. "C'mon." she said as they walked past a resting Albert, pushing the doors open into a dirtier hallway in comparison to the mess in the previous room. Teresa was close behind her, her pace a little slower than the other. Albert, on the other hand, was trying his best to keep up. He didn't exactly have enough energy to keep running around with the bullet wound in his shoulder. He looked pale, like a blank sheet of paper. Sweat ran down his temple into his bloodied shirt. He was getting colder and colder by the minute, and it didn't actually help that most of his blood was on his shirt.

As he hobbled along trying to keep up with the fast walking women, he could hear the two's conversation about the place they were at. "Does this place look familiar to you?" Sam asked.

"Look familiar? It feels familiar." Teresa answered as her eyes explored the hallway.

"What do you mean?"

"I work at a hospital. I've been a nurse for a few years now. Always wanted to help save lives, you know." She quickly checked behind her, seeing Albert behind them struggling with his pace. "You do know that feeling, right? You save lives by putting horrible people behind bars."

There was a pause, almost a hesitant second passed before Sam could reply. "You can say that."

"Well I know that feeling very well. It helps me sleep well at night." She looked at her forearms and shook her head. "We heal, that's why doctors and nurses are in high demand all over the world. We can help physically and mentally, but not emotionally." That last bit she had whispered to herself. Before Sam could ask what she had just said, they saw a door with another phrase written on it and a dark room with a much darker purpose.

_Healing is part of the "Process"_

Sam looked at the woman beside her. She knew that the next test was meant for her. Dread washed over her like a tidal wave. Teresa's bloodied hands shook, fear almost taking over. But she clenched her hands into fists and shook away the fear before barging inside.

The lights automatically activated themselves and revealed a room that was about twenty feet wall to wall, but the top lead to another floor and were blocked off by a clear glass wall, with the only way up was a ladder attached to the wall. There were two large openings high up on the walls, while another was made on their level. Above it had the phrase "Reach Out, Teresa" written in red with a small metal box on the wall.

"It looks like its big enough to put an arm through." Sam said after approaching the hole on the wall. Albert busted through the doors and flopped down on the floor with his back against the wall. He was breathing harder than a vacuum sucking up air at its highest setting and paler than paper. Sam ducked down so the hole was eye level with her. "I think there's something in here." Teresa walked over and bent down, looking towards the inside of the hole in front of them. The light behind them made it possible to see into the hole. Sam was right. There was something inside shaped like a tape player.

Then they heard pounding from above. What Teresa saw made her eyes widen in surprise and happiness. "Brian!" She could hear him shouting something that was almost muffled by the glass.

"Are you okay?" He yelled as loud as he can so they can all hear him. Their replies could barely be heard by Brian, who now was trying to stomp on the glass floor, but to no avail. "Stay put! I'll try to find a way to break this open!" Brian looked around the room and tried to find something. Problem was the room was virtually empty, save for the timer and a small fuse box on the wall. Seventeen minutes, it read and it continued to count down. He even looked behind the metal door for any object that could aid him and found nothing.

Teresa looked up to the glass and into the hole beside her. "I have to do it. I have to get that tape inside."

"How are you gonna do that?" Sam pointed out the size of the hole. "Even if you managed to get your hands on it you won't be able to pull it out."

"The vents," Albert gasped out as he tried to stand. He gestured for the rectangular gap on the floor and explained. "The hole probably reaches into the air vents. If you pull it, it might come out of that."

"It's worth a try." Teresa nodded and faced the wall. She slowly put her right hand out and slowly inched it inside. She was a little hesitant because of the previous test included reaching inside a space with razor wire and broken glass. She had managed to go past her elbow and was almost nearing her shoulder when she felt the player on the tip of her fingers. "There it is."

She felt the tape swinging in the small space, dangling from a thread almost like the key in the other test. She could feel something else too, but decided not to mind it as she tried to take the player into her palm. "Just fucking pull it out already." Albert said, seeing her struggle in this menial task only added to his pain.

Teresa rolled her eyes at his statement. The player eventually swung into her hand and she took hold of it like a child would to any piece of candy. "Got it." Then she pulled it down and released it so it fell down the vent and out onto the floor. Before she could feel relieved, something metallic clamped around her wrist, holding her in place, stuck to the wall.

She shrieked in surprise and tried to pull, but was only hurting herself. Brian heard her voice as a little meep, but looked down and wondered what was happening below. "Teresa! What's going on down there! Someone answer me!"

"I can't get it out. I can't get it out!" She was panicking. The task of getting the player had managed to lower her defense and the mechanism inside the hole had taken her by surprise. Even Sam was overtaken with worry that she didn't notice Albert hobbled his way towards them and took the tape off the floor.

"Will everyone shut up?" He intended to yell at the two, but he felt weak and his voice had failed him that it sounded like a whisper. He held up the tape and pressed the "Play" button.

" _Hello Teresa. Being a nurse, you are required to help those in need. The only problem is you. You struggle to encourage yourself to help others. You have been drowning in your obsession. You have lost your way. Now I will give you a push in the right direction. To your side is a lever. It will move the glass ceiling above you and guide the others to safety, but for a price. A mechanism will also activate and crush your hand._ " Teresa's eyes widened and her mouth gaped. " _You are hanging precariously between betrayal and rehabilitation. Is your hand equivalent to the lives you refuse to save? If you are not careful, you might drown in something else. Let the games begin._ "

As the last phrase was uttered, the various holes around the room started to spout a steady stream of water. Albert released the tape player from his hands and dropped down on the floor as the water slowly rose in levels as Teresa let out a piercing shriek.

"Help me out. Help me out!" Teresa shouted at the two. Sam didn't know what to do with herself that she started pulling Teresa out of the hole, even though it was ridiculous idea.

"I can't. That thing has you in real tight." Sam said, but Teresa continued to yell the same three words as if hoping to derail the sense of danger in her mind. Sam thought that climbing the ladder and banging on the glass would force it to move, but it would only waste her efforts.

Above them, Brian was banging on the glass underneath him with his fists. Each blow was harder than the last, but the glass floor took it all without even reacting. "Teresa!" he shouted through the glass. "Is everything alright in there?" There was no reply towards him. All he could see was water flowing through the holes and passing glances towards him.

As she continued to pull, the sight of the lever became more and more alluring that the thought of activating it entered her mind. Then she envisioned the pain she could feel. It made her stomach tighten and her head a little lighter than previously. The horror of inflicting such pain upon herself made her remember those patients back at the hospital with blood covered torsos and injuries such as broken bones and dismemberment. If it had hurt as much if it happened in an accident, then how much would she feel if she did it on purpose?

The water had already risen to her knees and it seemed that the holes were pumping out water with more force as time went on. Teresa could hear Sam shouting at her direction, but didn't hear her voice. Even the noise of flowing water seemed muted as she looked around. Everything slowed down as her mind tried to think. Would she risk her hand in order to live, but suffer from great pain, or stay where she was and let her actions kill three more people?

While she was contemplating her choice, someone else decided to make the choice for her. A bloodied hand bolted upwards and took the lever by the neck. Teresa's eyes darted to her side and the sight of the bloodied limb made her quickly look to its owner.

"Time's up." Albert whispered in a sinister tone just as he pulled down the lever, to Teresa's horror. The lights blacked out and were replaced by red lights. She pulled on her arm again and again while she could hear the machinery behind the wall operate upon its activation. She suddenly felt a cold, flat surface over and under her hand, only suddenly feel it move in. Then she felt the first bone cracking.

Extreme pain shot up her arm into her shoulder, causing her to twist underneath the pressure. As the vent walls inched closer and closer, as it slowly broke Teresa's hand bit by bit, the glass obstacle began to move. In exchange for this, the door behind Brian sealed itself shut. "What the hell!" Brian pulled on the door, but to no avail.

The glass above them had moved far enough for a person to fit. Sam climbed up the ladder in a hurry, helped up to her feet by Brian. "What the hell is going on down there?" he asked.

"The tape," she panted. "It said that she had to crush her hand so we could get out of there." The two could hear the screams of the nurse, feel the pure agony that she felt.

Below them, Albert smugly smirked as he tried to get up from the wall, amused by the sound of bones being broken into dust. Teresa's wails continued as the machine squeezed the muscles in her hand together, mashing them against the other layer violently. Once her bones have been crushed, she could feel her veins flatten. Blood came out of the veins, bursting through the tissue and veins, squirting out enough to drain most that were traveling through the hand.

When Teresa was unable to move her hand the machine had already stopped. Her hand had been fully flattened. The machine then began to retract the two crushers and freed her wrist. Teresa pulled her arm back from the hole so fast that she fell into the water.

As she sat on the flooding floor, she accidentally glanced at her crushed hand and it made her sick while the water continued to rise above her chest. Her stomach wrenched at the sight and almost threw up. Another sight she wasn't particularly drawn to was Albert climbing up the ladder. Sam was already at the top shouting at her to move. The glass ceiling had already been drawn back and the water levels rose as time passed.

She forced herself up to her knees and crawled with her only hand, keeping the damaged one against her belly and trying to keep her head up. The water was cold, like it had felt the touch of winter and teetered on the same temperature for days, and the feeling of it around her flattened hand was almost a relief, but a sense of dread came creeping up when her studies as a nurse hinted to her that the water could infect her hand if it had been dirty.

Teresa grabbed onto the ladder and pulled herself to her feet. Above her was a snickering, but dying, Albert. He had difficulty climbing up the ladder because of the gunshot wound he had sustained. Teresa had already started climbing, but Albert saw this and tried to kick her off. "You're gonna die here bitch, whether you like it or not!"

When he tried kicking her off again, his footing slipped and he failed to recover, sending him off the ladder and into the water. The water coming out of the walls intensified its force, filling up the room faster than before. Albert struggled in the water as Teresa slowly, but surely, crept up the ladder.

"Move it, Teresa! C'mon!" Sam yelled. Her hand was outstretched towards the other girl, silently telling her to grab her hand. Brian, on the other hand tried to open the door. He pulled on it relentlessly, until his eyes saw the fuse box. It was on the other side of the room where the only thing between him and it was a gaping hole within it was a room filling up with water.

Brian put his back on the wall as flat as he can and began to shimmy to the other side. The timer beeped in tune to his slow steps. Fifteen minutes, it read. He looked up towards the timer and down, where Teresa struggled to climb just to check on her progress, as he shimmied. When he reached the far side of the wall, he opened the fuse box and saw a green button. He didn't know what it does and who it was meant for, but it was all he could do. Brian pressed the button and heard the door creak open. It gave him a feeling of relief, but that changed when he saw the glass floor move.

" _The door opened, now the floor's closing_." Brian realized. He hurried back, shimmying carefully to the ladder.

"C'mon! Give me your hand." Sam shouted. Teresa had managed to get high enough to reach Sam with the disfigured remains of her right hand. She tried to reach, but something wet and cold had grabbed her ankle from below, causing her to yell.

"You're not getting away that easily, bitch!" Albert yelled. He held on Teresa's leg and slowly pulled himself up step by step on the ladder. He was already up to his neck with water and it was in no hurry to rise past his nose. As Albert desperately pulled, Teresa tried to kick him off the ladder, a clear reversal of roles in comparison to their earlier scuffle.

She managed to land a few hits on Albert's shoulder, somewhat loosening his grip. While all of this as happening, Sam managed to grab Teresa's right arm to hold her steady. She turned her head and noticed that the glass floor was creeping towards her. "Help me get her up." She said, struggling to hold onto Teresa.

Bran shimmied back as fast as he can. Teresa managed to kick Albert's hand off of her leg, yet he managed to grab on one of the ladder steps. Teresa put her foot on his hand and heard Albert squirm. "This is for Diane." She whispered to Albert before stomping down on his head. Albert plummeted down the ladder once more, this time with a much bigger splash.

Brian dived down on the floor and caught Teresa's arm just as Sam's grip was beginning to slip. "Gotcha." The two pulled up Teresa into the room and set her down against the wall. Brian could see that Teresa was paler than usual and he could see why. Her right hand from the wrist up was mangled up, something reminiscent of a flat pancake but just as disgusting as and a lot messier than roadkill. It was disgusting and Teresa knew how that felt.

She was gasping, her eyes were swelling up with tears. After the whole scenario at the ladder happened, the adrenaline had stopped flowing in her veins. She had started to feel the pain on her hand. It was intense and she was sure she was about to pass out. Brian knew that Teresa couldn't handle this kind of pain.

As they attended to now crippled nurse, the glass floor behind them was moments away from sealing the bottom portion of the room. Then they heard a loud bang against the glass. Sam almost jumped a few feet into the air from the surprise.

"OPEN THIS FUCKING THING!" Albert cried from the other side. He had managed to climb up the ladder, but was too late. The glass wall above him had already latched itself to the wall. He was too late. There was nothing he could do to move it. The water level was up to his chest and he had nowhere else to go. He would inevitably drown.

He continued to smash his fist against the unflinching glass, but the three didn't do anything aside from watching him squirm.

"Let's go." Brian said. He lifted Teresa's only good arm and put it around the back of his neck, putting him a few centimeters from Teresa's pale cheeks. He was acting as her support in the case her legs suddenly give out on her. "We need to get you to a hospital." He told her.

"Funny," Sam muttered, doing the same as Brian, putting her neck underneath Teresa's armpit and helped her stand up with Brian. "I thought we were in one."

The irony had caught on with Teresa and she managed a short chuckle. The three trotted out of the room as the timer behind them displayed the remaining 10 minutes they have.


	10. You Don't Know What Guilt Is

_Previously:_

_"OPEN THIS FUCKING THING!" Albert cried from the other side. He had managed to climb up the ladder, but was too late. The glass wall above him had already latched itself to the wall. He was too late. There was nothing he could do to move it. The water level was up to his chest and he had nowhere else to go. He would inevitably drown._

_He continued to smash his fist against the unflinching glass, but the three didn't do anything aside from watching him squirm._

_"Let's go." Brian said. He lifted Teresa's only good arm and put it around the back of his neck, putting him a few centimeters from Teresa's pale cheeks. He was acting as her support in the case her legs suddenly give out on her. "We need to get you to a hospital." He told her._

_"Funny," Sam muttered, doing the same as Brian, putting her neck underneath Teresa's armpit and helped her stand up with Brian. "I thought we were in one."_

_The irony had caught on with Teresa and she managed a short chuckle. The three trotted out of the room as the timer behind them displayed the remaining 10 minutes they have._

* * *

 

Teresa kept on groaning in pain, blood had nearly stopped leaking from the eviscerated limb. They had just escaped death once again, this time at the expense of Albert. He almost survived along with them, but his greed and impatience cost him in the end. Now he was drowning, or drowned, in a room full of water that almost became Teresa's final resting place.

Brian and Sam, both supporting Teresa, who felt nauseated by the sight of her arm, intense pain and great shock from her recent brush with death. Blood continued to drip from where her hand used to be, leaving behind a trail from the previous room and into the hallway they were walking through. With every hurried step the two would uncoordinatedly make, a tinge of pain would shoot up from her arm, and with every tinge of pain she would let out a squeak. She tried to suppress the pain and she was failing.

When they turned the corner, they saw a dark, open room in front of them.

"Wait." Teresa muttered hoarsely. Brian and Sam stopped in their tracks upon hearing Teresa's words. "Put me down."

"We don't have time to stop. We only have 10 minutes until our collars detonate." Sam said, remembering the timer she saw in the previous room.

Brian himself was trying to catch his breath. The adrenaline and the surge of energy he felt during the previous trap were nearly out of his system and he was now almost drained. Even Sam felt tired, but fought through the exhaustion. Now wasn't the time for them to sit and recover, they can recover all they want after they survive this whole ordeal. After a while, Brian straightened up and approached Teresa. "You okay to move?" he asked.

Teresa wanted to say no, wanted to give up and just bleed to death. Her arm was numb with pain; her head felt like it had been spun too many times on a fast moving carousel and her body wanted to ignore her completely. All of this she would be willing to do, but she didn't want to disappoint Brian. She had managed to rescue him from a slow death and she knew he was willing to return the favor. She would do anything to show to him that she cares, and right now she didn't want to disappoint him.

"Y-Yeah." She tried to move and it made her voice break. She bit her lip to hold back the pain. Once she thought she could manage it, she exhaled and took Brian's extended hand. He pulled her to her feet and held her steady while Sam moved ahead.

Once she crossed the doorway, the room that was once swallowed by the darkness was filled with bright white lights. It revealed what looked like a bathroom, or what was once a bathroom. The room was filled with gray tiles with muck filled sides; some were even uneven and unattached to the wall and floor. The metal curtain holders were currently nonexistent so big empty holes filled the walls. It was an overall mess.

These were considered normal compared to the things that stood out in the room. Four chains hung from the roof, the distance between each chain was the length of two arms. At the end of each chain was a metal handle decorated with barbwire and broken glass that could be seen from a distance. Set against the wall facing Sam was a small cubicle of fogged up glass with a frame of metal and rust. The entire cubicle was tall, twice the height of an average person, making it impossible to climb over. Inside were a shower and a small shelf. Right beside the cubicle on the wall was a container wrapped in a red blanket. Above it was a set of small unlit bulbs and the timer that was counting down of what remained. A tape recorder stood on the shelf inside the cubicle and smeared on the wall behind it with what appears to be red paint was Sam's name.

"So this is my trap." Sam muttered to herself as she slowly approached it. Brian and Teresa slowly followed her inside both wondering how the trap would function. They found out what its first function was when the door swung itself shut sealing Sam inside. She turned and tried banging against the door, but after all she has gone through tonight she learned that if it was your time to be tested you won't be able to fight against it. Across her at an arm's reach was the tape containing whatever instruction or threat she has to listen to.

"Hey! Are you alright in there!" Brian called when he saw the door close and heard her briefly panic.

"I'm fine." Sam replied. _Not for long_. She thought. She took the tape into her hands and saw the tape inside ready to be played. After pressing the play button, the voice in it began to talk.

" _Hello Samantha. Do you know how corrupt the government and its representatives are? You should know because you are one_." The voice said. Sam wasn't surprised anymore, but she was more anxious of what the tape would say next. " _You should ask Brian too. He has seen you at work._ "

Brian put Teresa down as soon he heard that last sentence and immediately charged for the cubicle. He knew it won't open, but he just remembered something and he wanted to make sure that it was the right memory. "Samantha Weiss? That's your name, isn't it!"

Samantha froze against the foggy glass wall. She hadn't realized that she paused the recording in order to hear the man on the other side. Her identity has been revealed. She knew it was inevitable, but she hoped that it would happen after the tests. Now she had nowhere to go and nowhere to hide. "So you do remember me."

"I do now."

"And here I thought you've forgotten all about me when we were in the first room." She said. A chuckle followed it in order to hide her anxiety. "I wouldn't blame you, though. I'd rather not remember what I did."

A groan came from behind and it momentarily took Brian's attention from the girl in the cubicle. Teresa looked up, her face pale and tired looking. "What is she talking about?"

"A year ago when I was still a lawyer, there was a case against a member of an organization that was dealing in human trafficking." Brian recalled. With the recent reminder, he was able to easily remember the event. He must've forgotten it while he was still trying to recover from the trauma that was losing his wife. "I was called up to defend him. Guess who the prosecutor was."

He looked at Teresa and was able to see how she reacted. She wanted to say "How is that bad?" but wasn't able to speak. She felt weak and she needed to save her strength. Brian then went on and told her how they met.

* * *

 

_Initially, I wouldn't have done the job, but apparently nobody wanted to be connected to case even if they would get paid a lot more. I didn't have a choice. So, after my client and I made the decision on the plea bargain, we were pulled aside by a few men. They were associates of my client, sent by the higher ups of the organization. I thought they just for protection in case some renegade human rights vigilante. They were actually there to fetch someone._

_"Brian Michaelson!" a voice from across the hall said. I had to look around the henchmen to see the prosecutor, Samantha Weiss, calling my attention. She waved me over and gestured me to take a seat beside her. I didn't know why she was taking this time to converse with me when she could have been making a case against my client. Though, I did find out soon after. "Quite a case you have there."_

_"Yeah. Tough luck for me." I replied. "I'm not gonna like my wife's reaction to this."_

_"Don't worry about it. I'm sure she'll understand." She had a sly smile on her face as she said this. "I just wanted to check on your client if he's feeling antsy or anything."_

_This got me to raise an eyebrow. She was concerned about the guy she planned on putting behind bars. He didn't look like a psycho or someone who would commit suicide to escape prison. He, in fact, looked calm. Too calm. "He doesn't look panicked to me."_

_"That's because he doesn't need to."_

_"Are you going somewhere with this. Are you trying to somehow sabotage my case?" I asked. That sly smile on her didn't falter. It just got bigger._

_"On the contrary, I'm planning on sabotaging mine." This took me on a loop, confused me to no end. I looked at my client and he was grinning. He even winked at my direction. I looked at Sam and she winked back to my client._

_"What?" I said. It was obvious I hadn't caught on with whatever sinister plan she had cooking. "What are you talking about?"_

_"You are going to win this case. Your client will be free with all charges dropped in a matter of days and he'll come back to his employers squeaky clean." She replied. "I'm not making any case against him. I'll undermine my own so he'll get free. I have the judge under my payroll just in case."_

_She was still making no sense to me. Samantha Weiss was supposed to be this guardian angel of the law, this role model of the masses. Here she was, telling me that she was making all sorts of plans to have this one guy escape of whatever crime he was guilty of. "Why?"_

_"He works for me of course. I don't want MY organization to fall apart." That was her motive. She was the leader, the mastermind behind the criminal group._

* * *

 

Teresa's eyes widened upon hearing this unknown secret. She had been helping the head of a criminal organization that specialized on illegal human trafficking and she herself has been aiding her in surviving. If she would have known this sooner then she would have abandoned her early on, letting her sins catch up to her.

"After that, I refused to cooperate with her. I wanted to blow the whistle, tell everyone that she's a fraud. Her men demonstrated her grip on the city by destroying my car right in front of me, in a parking lot, in the middle of the night." Brian continued. "They told me that the same would happen to my family. I didn't want to endanger my kid and my wife."

Brian saw how Teresa reacted after telling this little memory about the corrupted lawyer in the cubicle. He placed a hand on her shoulder, yet there was a grim look on his face. "I know. She fooled me. She fooled everyone for years."

There was a slight chuckle coming from the cubicle. It may have conveyed light heartedness in a nightmare, but Sam felt the irony of her situation. All those years she had been taking children from all sorts of countries, trapping them and locking them away from their families so they could be sold. Now all her wrongdoings in the past had caught up, ready to exact punishment on her. "Fooling everyone that you were this knight in shining armor, pretending to be this nice guy was easy. Living with the guilt was the hard part."

"Guilt?" Brian turned his head to Teresa, who spoke this line with difficulty, but managed to say it. "A person like you wouldn't even know what guilt is."

Silence hung over the air for a moment, the one in the cubicle not knowing how to answer. Brian stood up and once again walked over to the trapped girl and said, "Play the tape." A second later, the tape continued relaying its instructions.

" _From your own perspective, you are the saving grace that brings hope to their beloved city, but in my eyes you are a criminal. You are rotten to the core. You have made deals with various people, used your power in the legal system to ensure that your little secret with children will be kept hidden. Today, you shall be cleansed of your sins._ " As if on cue, the part of the wall covered with the red blanket was pulled and it revealed a container that carried a kilogram of an unlabeled liquid. " _The shower above you will spout hydrochloric acid at random intervals and amounts that is until the handles are pulled down for a certain amount of time, unlocking the cubicle. Be careful though for the handles will tear apart the skin on their hands. The door to the next room will not unlock until two minutes have passed. Death or respite, are you will willing to entrust your life onto others? Trust is the key._ "

The timer changed to two minutes and began counting down. A mechanism was activated and the acid started to go down into the pipe t was connected with. A few seconds later, the acid has successfully made its way to the end of the shower.


End file.
